The Phantom's Love
by Alia G. L
Summary: Is it possible for one person to live two lifetimes? So starts this story about love, life, and pain. This story is based more on the movie than the book. It takes place two years after Raoul and Christine leave the Phantom. Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

A/N: Hi. It's me. Got a great idea for a fanfic and I'm going to role with it. Hope you like the first chapter. And yes, I am still working on "Little Ring Lost". New chapter to that should be posted soon. Please read, review, and enjoy! -Alia G. L.

Disclaimer: I own no one but Elizabeth and Louise. They are my creations. All other characters belong to someone else. Not me. So, please don't sue.

Chapter 1: Prologue

Is it possible for one person to live two lifetimes? Ask anyone, save a Hindu or a Buddhist, and they'll say, "Of course not. How in the world could one person live twice? That is ridicules." They wouldn't be wrong in assuming that. How many people have lived two lifetimes? They know of none. But I have a different opinion. I believe one can live two lifetimes. Believe me, I know. I have lived two lifetimes.

You will immediately question that. How could it be possible? All I can say is that I don't know. It has something to do with physics and the Earth's orbit and the past/present/future model. Beyond that, I am clueless. All I know is that it happened. Providence allowed me to take away two objects from my first lifetime: my wedding ring and Erik's picture. That is all. The rest is all stored in my memory. Would you like to hear this story? It's a story of a second love and pain and separation and overcoming hindrances. It's a beautiful story.

I must admit, I'm nervous telling it. Who would believe it? It seems so impossible. Yet, it did happen. Come to my house and I will show you the ring and picture. That's the only way I can truly prove this story. Besides that, well, you have to take my word for it. Are you ready?

My name is Elizabeth Jacobson. And this is my story.


	2. Chapter 2: Obsessed

A/N: Wow. Two chapters in one night! I'm doing pretty good. Please read and review. Thanks.

Disclaimer: See chapter one, but if you feel lazy…. I don't own anyone save Elizabeth and Louise.

Chapter 2: Obsessed

My story doesn't start like most stories of love and pain. It doesn't begin on a stormy night. It doesn't begin in a castle in a far away land. Nor does it begin with my birth. It begins in a little town in West Virginia, where a little seven year old is very much annoyed with her parents. The parents had just seen "The Phantom of the Opera" musical and they insisted on playing the soundtrack every timethey were in the car. This was my first introduction to the famous musical. Boy was I annoyed. It was all they played. Why were they torturing me? I was tired of hearing it, especially since I didn't understand what the voices were saying. Who was the phantom of the opera? What did he do? Why was he there? Why were they so afraid of him? What was going on? Sadly, I never asked my parents these questions. I just became more and more annoyed. Thank the Lord I changed my attitude later in life, or who knows where this story might have led.

About nine years later, Warner Brothers released a movie version of the musical into theaters. My curiosity was aroused. I remembered a little of the soundtrack I'd been forced to listen to as a child. I decided I wanted to see the movie. Maybe it would prove interesting. Unfortunately, money was tight and I never had the opportunity to view the movie in theaters. When I finally did see it, it was in the comfort of my living room.

I have to say, I was practically forced to see the movie. My three best friends absolutely loved it and would talk about it all the time. I finally had enough of being on the outside of the conversations and rented the movie. It was love at first view. I loved the movie. It was just magnificent. The same day I rented and watched it, I ran out and bought it. Obsessed? Maybe I was. Who could blame me?

I must have watched the movie every week. In my spare time, I'd dream of falling in love with the Phantom and the adventures we'd have together. I sang the songs to myself in the shower, in the car, and everywhere I could. I must admit, singing those songs was sweet revenge. My parents got about as annoyed as I had gotten when I was a child listening to it. Now they knew how I felt.

It wasn't long before I discovered it was a book. I'm a lover of reading. My library, now that I'm older, contains over a thousand books. I read more than I did anything else. About three months after I purchased the movie, I bought the book. I quickly dived into it. I also loved it, though I liked the Phantom of the movie better because I thought him less mean. Praise God that Erik was more like him than the book Phantom. Would I ever have been able to live in the same house with himif he was like the book Phantom? I probably would have committed suicide like Christine tried to do.

My two lifetimes, however, began on a humid and hot summer night in June of 2006. But, before I start on that story, it'd probably be good if you knew a little more about me than just my Phantom of the Opera obsession. I start this story at the humble age of eighteen. My birthday is in January. I was a college student at Old Dominion University in Norfolk, Va. Besides Phantom of the Opera and reading, my next biggest obsession was karate. Yes, karate. Who would ever have thought that I took that sport? I was a black belt in it and was doing rather well. It was there that my friends and I gathered to talk and hangout. So, not only was it my sport, it was also my social life. The conversations my friends and I had at the dojo (the place where we trained) were about many things, including Phantom of the Opera. All the karate teens liked it and it was one of our favorite topics. I believe that covers all you really need to know about me.

My description? Well, I was average height back then. Needless to say, I have shrunken with age. My hair was a dull brown and very oily. My eyes were hazel; they constantly shifted though from blue to green. I was not skinny nor was I fat. I was plump. Wait. That is a bad adjective. I was round, meaning I was no great beauty. There, that covers everything. Now where was I? Ah, yes.

A humid and hot summer night in June…


	3. Chapter 3: June 2006 and June 1873

Disclaimer: Please see chapter 2…. No excuses this time for those of you who are lazy.

Chapter 3: June 2006/1873

I had karate that night. I went, though I wasn't feeling too good. I made it through the black belt class and then was on the point of collapsing. I remember it like it was yesterday. My head felt like there was a whale on top of it. I was sweating and felt hot, but I was cold to the touch. My best friend was very much concerned.

"You should go home. You look like you are on the point of collapse." She told me. I wanted to thank her for stating the obvious. I was sitting down at the time. I couldn't find the energy to move. My boyfriend, yes, I did have a boyfriend, came over, scooped me up, and carried me to my car. After setting me in the driver's seat, he ran back in to get my stuff.

"Do you think you can drive? Or do you want me to drive you home?" He asked after returning. I reassured him I could drive and that he had no need to be concerned. That wasn't all truth, but I had an odd feeling that letting him drive me was a bad idea. Like something was going to happen and he didn't need to be there to see it. He didn't like it, but I told him I was going to be fine and that he should continue with the rest of his classes. He finally gave in.

I made the drive home in relative safety. I found that the headache gave me an ability to focus that I never have had before. Odd, I know. I could never explain it; I still can't. All though the drive was a success, after getting out of the car, I had to drag myself to the door of the house.

My family was immediately at my side, asking me all kinds of questions. All I wanted was to go to bed, though I was touched by their concern.

"Are you all right? What happened? Do you need to go to the hospital?" My mom demanded. I shook my head. No hospital. I knew that would be a bad idea. I felt like a diver getting ready to take a deep plunge. It was very weird. Something was happening. I couldn't explain it.

My mom and dad walked me upstairs to my room. After making sure the hospital still wasn't an option and with many promises of checking up on me, they left me to go to sleep. I undressed quickly, or as quickly as I could. I felt like I was swimming through water. Every one of my movements was forced against some unseen will. I lay down to sleep.

I must have drenched the sheet in the first five minutes of laying there. I thought I was going to dehydrate due to all the water I lost. My body alternated from hot to cold and back. I was dying. I just knew it. Finally, darkness overcame me and I slipped from conscious to unconscious.

I woke up standing. Now, many of you will find this impossible, but all of it is true. I woke up standing in the middle of some sort of sidewalk. I was wearing a full length skirt of some dull brown material; my shirt was white with some lace at the ends of the sleeves. My first thought: I'm dreaming or delusional. Of course, that proved not to be the case. But, I'm getting ahead of myself.

It was evening. The sun's last rays were fading over the horizon. Numerous buildings surrounded me. There were a few people walking around and every now and then a carriage would roll by. Due to the setting sun, I figured it was evening time and that most people were eating. This would explain the lack of people on the sidewalks. I wondered if anyone had seen me arrive. I still thought I was dreaming, though. I pinched myself. No effect. I was still in this town or city or whatever it was. I started walking.

I kept walking; just walking. Every few minutes, someone would pass by me on some errand or other, but the for the most part I had the sidewalk to myself. At one point, a gruff looking man passed me. I just couldn't contain my curiosity any longer. I had to know where I was.

"Excuse me, sir. Do you happen to know the name of this town and the date of today?" I questioned. He stopped and looked at me like I was the dumbest person in the world. He wouldn't have been too far from the truth at that moment.

"You're in Paris, mademoiselle. And the date of today is June of 1873. Good evening." He briskly walked off. I stood there stunned. 1873? Paris? Could it be possible? I had time traveled. Impossible, I thought. You can't time travel by being sick and going to sleep. That was crazy. Right?

I stood there for a few more minutes thinking about it. The sun went down and the gas lamps along the street lit up. I made up my mind. Even if I was dreaming, it was a very realistic dream. I had better act like this was real until something proved it otherwise. I continued walking.

As I walked, I reflected on all of this. I didn't notice the scenery changing or the buildings becoming more ruff looking and unkempt. Nor did I notice the three men that fell into step behind me. Despite what some people now may say, there were rapists back then. These three gentlemen happened to be some of them.

I finally looked behind me and saw them. Knowing they couldn't mean anything good, I broke off into a run. Have you ever tired running in a full length skirt before? It is quite impossible. I didn't get very far before one of the men grabbed me from behind and shoved me into a wall. He pressed his body up against mine, pinning me. He smelled of beer and cigarettes.

I then took notice my surroundings. I still berate myself for not noticing them sooner. My karate instructors always told me, "Watch where you go. Don't ever be caught off guard when it comes to surroundings." And there I was, caught like a fish in the net. Of course, if it wasn't for this, I'd never have met Erik and I wouldn't be here telling you this story.

We were in a neighborhood full of bars and prostitute houses: the red light district. I was in the bad part of Paris. There would be no one to help me except myself. But, I all of a sudden felt weak and I just couldn't shove the man's weight off me.

"What's the matter, sweetheart? You scared? Nothin' to be scared off. My boys and I just want to have a little fun. Even a sophisticated girl like you will understand that." He laughed. It was horrible. I knew right then and there what my fate would be. I struggled and tried to scream. He laughed harder and so did his buddies who had come up.

"Now. Now. There's no use screaming. No one will hear you. Besides, just cooperate and you won't get hurt." Yeah, right. Using my last bit of energy, I planted my hands against the wall and shoved backwards hard. The man, not expecting it, fell back with a shout. It was then I heard carriage wheels. I let out a high pitched yelp for help. My attacker shoved me against the wall again. My head clipped the corner and I fell to the ground. Touching my brow, I could feel blood. Darkness started appearing around the edge of my vision.

The last thing I heard before falling into the darkness was a voice shouting, "Unhand her, you scoundrels." The voice was dreadfully familiar but I couldn't place it in my state of mind. I finally fell into unconsciousness for the second time that day.


	4. Chapter 4: The Rest of the Story

Disclaimer: I own nothing save Elizabeth and Louise. So, please don't sue!

A/N: I'd appreciate it if those of you who read this story would also kindly review, even if it's as short as "Good job" or "I hate it" (yes, I do accept flames: just not nasty mean ones). So, please review. My deepest thanks to Emma-J-Riddle and Anastasia Who for their kind reviews. All right, then. Back to the story.

Chapter 4: The Rest of the Story.

It was sometime before I found out what had happened after my descent into darkness. For the sake of the flow of the story (and your curiosity), I will tell you what happened as it was told to me.

It was Erik who rescued me. He had been driving down that street (only God knows why; I never had the courage to ask) and saw the men corner me. He had immediately stopped the carriage, jumped out, and ran to my rescue. It was him who shouted, "Unhand her, you scoundrels."

Needless to say, the men saw him and panicked. Wouldn't you be scared too if you saw…? Now that would be giving my story away, so I'll just say wouldn't you be scared too if some strange man ran at you while you were in the process of a crime? I should say so. The men fled and Erik walked over to me. He established that I was alive, but unconscious and that I was wounded. Picking me up, he took me to his carriage. Gently, he placed me in and told the driver to take him home.

Upon arriving at his house, Erik carried me into a spare bedroom and had Louise, the housemaid, go fetch a doctor. The doctor arrived, stitched up my head, and then told Erik that they would have to be patient about my waking up. The doctor said it could be as short as an hour or as long as a few days.

Louise told me later that Erik refused to leave my side for anything, even food. He acted like he was in some way responsible for what happened to me, which was not the case. I still can't believe he stayed by my side for that long. I mean, I was out for a long time: a week to be precise. I think my week of sleep was due not only to my collision with the wall, but also to my just having time jumped to the 19th century. That would knock anyone out.

I woke up a week later, but I didn't wake up to Erik sitting by my bedside. He had left my side as soon as he saw the signs of me waking up.


	5. Chapter 5: Purge My Thoughts

Disclaimer: Please see chapter 4.

Chapter 5: Purge My Thoughts

"Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before." – Phantom of the Opera Musical

I woke up slowly, the darkness receding. Before I could actually see anything, I could hear. The first sounds to great me where a chair creak and footsteps walking away. I wondered who they belonged to and, more importantly, where I was. For, as you may recall, I had no memory of Erik taking me home or caring for me. All I remembered where the men who cornered me.

I sat up with such force that I gave myself a headache. I had to get out of there. It never occurred to me that I wasn't in the lair of those men. I stepped out of bed and immediately collapsed. We all know one must never try walking right after being asleep for a week: your limps just can't handle it. I found that out the hard way. I sat there for a few seconds, leaning against the bed and breathing heavily. I must get up and leave. I gathered my energies for another attempt. I was interrupted by a woman in her late fifties bustling into the room.

"You're awake! Thank the good Lord. You gave us quite a scare. We thought you'd remain asleep forever. Master just informed me of you awaking, though." That's when she noticed that I was on the floor. "Why, child, you should never have gotten out of bed. Come. Come. Back in you go. The doctor will be along shortly." She gave me her hand and helped me back into bed.

I must admit, I didn't know what to really say or do. Who was this woman? Was she a nurse? Master? Who was he? My mind was slowly going dark again. I refused to let this happen. At least, not until I had gotten some answers.

"Who are you? Where am I? How long have I been out?" I demanded. The woman gave me an indulgent look.

"Poor child. You've obviously had quite a scare. My name is Louise and I'm the maid, housekeeper, and cook all rolled into one. You are at the house of the Master. Now, don't look at me like that. I don't know his proper name. It's just Master to me. Maybe he'll tell you his name. One never knows with him. He can be eccentric in his own way." She walked to a small table position in the corner while talking and poured me a glass of water. "Here you go, dear. Drink this. You'll feel better. And know you have nothing to fear while you are here." She walked out the door and shut it. My last question remained unanswered.

I sat there not quite sure what had happened or what was going to happen. I drank the drink she gave me. It was water, but I had a sneaking suspicion that there was some sort of medicine in it. A metallic taste was left in my mouth. I did not like it. I've never liked medicine. Still don't.

Even though I knew I'd collapse again, I decided to try standing up. Before I could, though, the doctor walked in. He looked at me and without introducing himself, began to examine me. It was rather uncomfortable. He made me lie down while he looked at my eyes and checked out the stitches on my head. Making some rather pleased sounds, he stepped back and whispered to Louise who had walked into the room. Finally, he turned and addressed me.

"You are doing much better, mademoiselle. I think one more week of bed rest and you can get up and move about. Don't over exert yourself, though. I don't want to come back here for anything save to take those stitches out. Good day." He walked out. I was more confused than ever.

"Louise!" I cried out before she left. "What's happening to me? Why am I here? I want to go home!" Tears had welled up in my eyes. Of all my experiences in Paris, this was perhaps one of the worst. I was far from home with no idea how to get back to my time. I was a lost, lonely child.

"Dear child, I don't know what's happening to you. You are here and that's all that matters. I will take care of you and you have nothing to worry about. And if you want to go home, why did you ever leave it in the first place?" She looked at me curiously. I hadn't left home on purpose. Cruel fate had taken me away. But, I couldn't explain this. I pinched myself. To my vast disappointment, I didn't wake up in bed at my own house. I was still sitting in some stranger's bed with Louise hovering over me.

"I'm tired." I mumbled.

"Of course you are. You've had a hard week. But, bless me, here I am talking and I don't even know your name!" She looked at me expectantly.

"Elizabeth. My name is Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth. What a pretty name. Well, Elizabeth, rest and I will be in later with some supper. And don't try that trick again of getting out of bed. You must rest. In one week you will be fully recovered. Or so the good doctor says." She smiled and left me to my solitude.

It was then that I realized that this was no dream. I was in Paris of 1873 with no way of getting home. There was no 2006. It was in the future; a future I wasn't part of any longer. What was I to do? A line from the Phantom of the Opera musical popped into my mind: "Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before." That was what I must do. Purge my mind of the future. Try not to think of it and live my life to the fullest here. I could do it. I knew I could.

None of you can imagine the agony of that moment. To know you will never see family or friends again is a painful place to be. I don't know what I would have done if I had known fate would be kinder than that, but for all it's worth, I'm glad I didn't know. I might not have enjoyed the moments that came my way. Or have fallen in love and enjoyed my time with Erik. All of which were very important to me and still are, though they have long passed away.

A week went by at a snail's pace. I slowly got used to things as they came my way. I found out from Louise that I had been unconscious for a little under a week. That was a shock. You would think that after such a long sleep, I would feel well rested. But, that wasn't the case. So, I adjusted to waking up again. Among the many other things I adjusted to during that first week was not having a shower every day (my worst nightmare) and having to use candles or gas lights. No electricity as of yet. I found that my "purging of thoughts" was going to be slightly harder than at first suspected. But, I managed.

As the doctor ordered, I was bedridden that whole week. And I never saw that master of the house, though Louise referred often to him. At night, I would sometimes hear the most haunting music being played from upstairs. I looked forward to those nights. The music, in some weird way, comforted my soul and made my lose of home more bearable. I was missing my family and friends terribly at the time. I also figured the music was played by the master of the house. It was my only connection to him.

I asked Louise at the end of my resting week why I never saw him. I wanted to thank him for everything he had done. Not only had he rescued me, but he had given me lodging and provided money for new clothing. Louise told me he would show himself when he was ready. Don't rush him, she said. I didn't take that too much to heart and later we both suffered for it. But that was later. Much later.

So, I found myself at the end of the week of rest. The doctor came back and took out my stitches. Louise was quick to inform me that the Master had given me the spare bedroom as my own. His kind generosity, she said. My first day out of bed, I got used to just walking around and not falling over. You would have laughed if you had seen me.

By the second day, I was moving like normal. And Louise immediately employed me. I scrubbed walls and wood floors and washed dishes. I found it quite fun, though I would have given anything for a good dishwasher. There was one thing I was never allowed to do: go upstairs. Anytime I approached the stair case, Louise was there ordering me to go do something. She never let me out of her sight which was a wise decision on her part.

Three days into my second week of living in 1873, Louise took me shopping for clothes. It was the first time I'd been outside since that first fateful evening. I was quite excited. Paris was beautiful. I loved every sight of it. Cafés lined some of the streets and there were shops and restaurants. It was amazing. I ended up buying three gowns: a working one, one for just hanging around, and one for going out into public. I liked them all rather well. I could tell Louise had fun picking them out with me. She must not get to do this often. I thought. When I asked her about it, she just smiled.

"My husband died a few years after we got married. I never had children, so I missed out on this." I offered my condolences. She waved them away.

"Nothing for you to worry about, my dear. I'm happy where I am. Master is good to me and I have everything I could ever want."

"How long have you been working for him?" I inquired, while slipping on a rose red dress designed for parties. I wanted to learn anything I could about the mysterious master of the house.

"Oh, about a year. Rather mysterious he is. But, I don't mind. As long as he pays me my salary and gives me a place to sleep, I'm fine." Our conversation was then interrupted when I found the newest item on my getting used to list: corsets. Ugh.


	6. Chapter 6: The Upstairs

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapter.

A/N: This was originally part of chapter five, but I decided to shorten it. I hope you like it. REVIEW! I beg of you!

Chapter 6: The Upstairs

My curiosity over the upstairs of the house was slowly coming to a head, though. I repressed it, but it wouldn't go away. On a Saturday evening, at the beginning of my third week there, it reared its ugly head. Louise had gone away for the evening to visit her brother who was in town on business. I finished up the list of chores she had given me and was quite bored. I sat down in the parlor and daydreamed (my favorite pastime). Suddenly, music floated down from the upstairs. I felt it draw me toward it. I couldn't resist. I stood up and walked to the stairs and crept up them. Louise wasn't there to stop me this time.

There was a long hall at the top; it split left and right. Each side had three doors on the side of the stairs. The other wall was empty. I listened to determine which door the music was coming from. It was the second door to the right. I walked over to it and found it slightly ajar. I opened it farther, making sure it didn't creak. The room I saw was like the parlor downstairs. There was a couch against one wall with some high backed chairs against another wall and the floor was wooden. The main difference between the two was the piano in between two windows straight across from the door. A man in a white shirt and black pants was playing the piano.

Oh, the music was so beautiful. I stood there, like the little peeping tom that I was, listening and enjoying it. Until, I realized I knew the song. Words unbidden came flooding through my head. The Music of the Night. Phantom of the Opera. I looked again at the man. I saw a gleam of white against the right side of his face. A mask!

I could barely contain my scream, though whether it was of delight or fright, I'm still not sure. Probably a mixture of both. All I knew was that he must not know I was there or had been there. Turning, I ran down the stairs as silently as I could and raced into my room. I shut the door and stood there, trying to breathe. The music had stopped. I was trying to overcome my amazement and fright.

The Phantom of the Opera had rescued me. I was in the house of the Phantom! All my dreams had come true. It was amazing. Then it dawned on me. The Phantom had never actually existed in my world. He was a made up character. This meant that not only was I in a different time period, but probably another dimension. Was that even possible? I didn't know. Apparently it was.

I undressed and went to bed. Not because it was late or anything, but because I thought I could think better lying down. I also wanted to escape the thoughts of what had just happened. The thoughts of meeting the Phantom turned around inside my head. That must have been why he never showed himself. He was shy due to the mask and his disfigurement. I could understand that. I drifted off to sleep. My last thought was that he hadn't come down to reprimand me for going upstairs but he had stopped playing. I wondered if that meant he had heard me.

Needless to say, I thought I had gotten away with my little expedition up the stairs. That is until Louise woke me up early the next morning

"Get dressed into your nicest dress." She commanded. "Master desires an audience with you." An audience? That couldn't have meant anything good. Or so I thought.


	7. Chapter 7: The Phantom of the Opera

Disclaimer: Don't sue! It's not mine! I don't own it!

Chapter 7: The Phantom of the Opera

I was out of bed in a flash. Louis had already set out the nice dress I purchased a few days back. It was a midnight blue with some ruffles and lace. She helped me into the corset and then into the dress. I was more nervous than I'd ever been in my life. So, the Phantom, for that was the only name I knew for him at the moment, had heard me that night. I wasn't too surprised. After all, wasn't he the Phantom of the Opera?

Louise hurried me out the door with comments on how the Master didn't like to be kept waiting. I wasn't surprised about that either. It seemed to fit with his character. She walked me up the stairs. She had ceased her chatter and was very quiet. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered. Louise led me to the second door on the right. So, I was to meet my benefactor in the room where I had spied on him the night before. I wanted to laugh.

"Go on in, dear. He's waiting for you. No need to fear. He may yell, but he certainly won't bite. Be patient. Don't rush things. And smile. There you go." With a half-hearted pat on my shoulder, she withdrew and went downstairs. I was left alone.

I opened the door to the room. It looked exactly as it had the previous night. A couch against one wall, some high backed chairs against another. The piano was still in between the two windows. The sun was shining through one window, illuminating the door and the space immediately to the left of the door. The other window's blinds were pulled closed. In the darkest corner of the room, a shadow stood. The master of the house: the Phantom. He beckoned me into the room and indicated to me that I was to stand in light. I felt like I was in Beauty and the Beast.

"You did not loose time in exploring once Louise was gone, did you, child?" He asked slowly. I couldn't see his face or expression so I did not know if he was angry, annoyed, or simply teasing me.

"I'm sorry, sir." I said as I shifted my weight from foot to foot. I was nervous. Can't you tell? "I didn't know I was breaking a rule. Forgive me?" He laughed and I saw he was just picking on me. Afterwards, I found he liked to do that quite often. Believe it or not, I always got him back.

"You are forgiven, child. And it wasn't a rule, merely my preference. What is you name, child?" He demanded. "Your full name."

"Elizabeth Ray Jacobson, sir." I replied. I thought a curtsey necessary, so I tried one. It didn't turn out too well considering I'd never done one before in my life. Though I didn't see it, I knew he smiled. I was making a fool of myself.

"Elizabeth. A beautiful name; very much appropriate. Tell me, Elizabeth, where do you come from?" I wasn't sure what to tell him. The truth was not believable at the moment. He would have scoffed at hearing of my being from the future and possible alternate dimension. So, I decided to twist it. Really twist it.

"I come from Virginia in the United States. I fled here due to the civil war and I became separated from my companions. I found my way to Paris and that is all there is to tell." I thought it pretty good for a spare of the moment thing. I could see him nod his head.

"A believable story, but not the full truth." My head snapped up and my jaw probably dropped a few inches. He continued. "A girl like you would not loose her companions. You are not telling me the full truth. But, after a while, maybe you will tell me it in full. For now, I trust you." I still don't know why I asked it. I already knew the answer. Maybe it was the nerves or the fact that he was hiding. Maybe I was suffering still from time travel lag. Or maybe I just wanted to see his response. Or maybe his ability to see through my lie had scared me out of my wits. For, without thinking, I blurted out.

"What is your name?" I wanted to slap myself. He stepped away from the corner. I could see him slightly better, at least enough to see the white mask. He also wore a cloak of black which covered the rest of his clothing.

"My name? What do you think my name would be, child? Master, as you hear Louise call me? It is just a title. I have no name, at least not one a normal person such as your self could use. I was never good enough for one. So, what would you name me?" I hadn't expected that. But I knew the perfect name, thanks to the book.

"Erik." He looked at me. Though I couldn't completely see his face, I could have sworn (and still swear) he lifted his eyebrow.

"Erik? I like it. It has a certain sound to it; a sadness to it. Just like my life. Yes, you may call me that." He stood for a second, thinking. I could feel the sweat trickling down my back. "Any more questions, mademoiselle?" He asked.

"Yes, one more. Would you step into the light? I want to see you." I said somewhat timidly. I wanted to be sure my guess from the previous night was right. There might have been other men who wore masks, though very doubtful. I just had to be sure. Later, I realized I had been almost quoting Beauty and the Beast by asking him to step into the light. How appropriate.

"Why would you want to see me?" He asked bitterly. "Why put yourself through it?" But, he stepped into the light anyway.

He was tall, that was the first thing I noticed. He towered over my by about six inches. Maybe more. Then, I saw the mask. It was white, like the one from the Phantom of the Opera movie. It covered the whole right side of his face save for right above his lips. The mask confirmed my suspicion. He was the Phantom of the Opera.

Apparently, he no longer cared to wear a wig of any sort. His hair was not long, but not really short. It was about to the middle of his neck and it was a dark blonde. I found him strikingly handsome, yet I still took a cautionary step back.

"Are you afraid?" He questioned, noticing my retreat. What was I to say? Part of me was slightly scared. Remember all the atrocities he had committed in the book and movie? Those were floating through my head. I didn't know he had changed his character since then. But, I squared my shoulders, looked him straight in the eye, and lied again.

"I am not afraid of you, though you are not what I had expected." He nodded, a cruel smiling developing on his face.

"I understand. You expected to wake up and find that a handsome man from some novel had rescued you. You would fall in love with him and then live happily ever after. You were not expecting a man hidden behind a mask." His voice dripped with sarcasm. He was still getting over Christine and her rejection, it seemed. I felt bad for him, but angry that he would dare try to figure out what was inside my head.

"You are wrong, sir. And I am offended you would have such a low opinion of me. I was expecting to find myself in the hands of the men who cornered me. You are definitely not what I was expecting, but I am very grateful for that. I'd rather be here than there. The mask may bother you, it doesn't bother me. But, may I ask what you are going to do with me? For that is the most dominate thought in my head at the moment."

"I can understand that. You may stay. If you wish, you can help Louise with her chores and the cooking. Or you can just reside here and do as you please. I do not care. My life is not as luxurious as some peoples' lives, but I have enough money to meet all my needs and it will meet yours as well. Only one condition I place on you." I interrupted him.

"Let me guess, you want me to promise never to go away and to stay here always?" I questioned. It was Beauty and the Beast all over again. He looked puzzled and shook his head.

"No. That is not my condition. Why would I force someone such as you to stay with a monster like me? For that is what I am. You will soon see it and realize your mistake in choosing to abide here." He held up his hand to stop me from commenting. "As I said, there is only one condition and an optional condition if you wish for it."

"What is the one condition?" I asked nervously. What could the Phantom want from me? I realized what it was about a second before he told me. I don't know how I could have completely forgotten that one little detail.

"The one condition is this: you must never, ever touch my mask or in any way try to remove it. If you do, you will find yourself in the streets. Do you understand?" I cowered back against the wall as he stepped menacingly toward me.

"I understand."

"Good. You will have no problems here if you just obey that one little command." He sighed and took a step away from me. I plucked up my courage to ask a question.

"What's the optional condition and why is it optional?"

"I make this optional because I don't know how comfortable you are or will be with me. But, it is rather lonely being here by myself with only Louise for company. She's typically nervous around me. I wonder would you join me for dinner every evening." Now it was his turn to look nervous. I noticed the way he shifted his weight as he spoke. When he asked me to join him for dinner, I could have laughed. I didn't, thank the Lord. I took a step toward him and smiled.

"I would be delighted to join you for dinner. In fact, I'd be honored. It's the least I can do after you rescued me and provided me with a home." I tentatively placed my hand on his arm. He didn't pull back. "And for all that, Erik, I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

"You are welcome, child. I would not leave one such as you in the hands of those men. Now, off with you. I have business I must see to and I'm sure Louise could use an extra pair of hands. I will see you for dinner." He stepped away, my hand falling from his arm. I nodded and left the room. I didn't notice his look of sadness as I left. Later, he told me he had pitied me being in a place where I had to rely on him. He never trusted himself with me. Always afraid he'd hurt me.

I shut the door quietly on the way out. I leaned against it for a second, composing my thoughts. It was then that I realized I was going to fall hopelessly in love with him.


	8. Chapter 8: Dreams,Dinner,and Three Weeks

A/N: Hi! It's me again. Just wanted to say a special thank you to MasqueradingThroughLife for her very nice reviews (I know, I wish I could hug him, too). I appreciate it very much. Thanks also to Emma-J-Riddle for her reviews. And for those of you who haven't reviewed: review! Thanks again.

Disclaimer: I own nothing, save my two characters. But, you knew that.

Chapter 8: Dreams, Dinner, and Three Weeks

Three rather uneventful weeks went by after my audience with the Phantom. July came on, hot and somewhat stuffy. It wasn't nearly as bad as where I had come from, though. The coast line of Virginia is very humid and Paris is nothing like it. But, the dresses I had to wear (plus the corsets) made me hot and grumpy. I despised them above everything else. I was tempted to go buy a pair of pants and make them into shorts. Of course when I suggested this to Louise, she looked at me in horror.

"Is that the fashion in the United States when you were still living there, before the war?" She had asked me. Not knowing what the fashion was in the United States at the time (I'd always done terrible in history), I said yes. She shook her head and muttered to herself.

"No wonder they had a civil war. Women in men's clothes. That would definitely start a war." I felt like correcting her about the reasons for the war, but didn't. What was the point? So, I went on being hot and wishing for shorts. Needless to say, this was a problem for the rest of my stay in the 19th and early 20th centuries. I just dealt with it.

I took Erik's advice and helped Louise with the chores and cooking. It helped take my mind off of all the things going on around me. Louise soon had shown me how to get from place to place outside. I enjoyed going to the market to buy farmer's products and other such stuff. However, I was never allowed to go alone. Louise always went with me even when I had the directions down pat. I would never have gotten lost. Erik was concerned for me, though. He figured if I could be attacked once, it could happen again. And what if I had gotten lost? Who would have helped me? I appreciated his kindness, but I thought it rather unnecessary.

My longing for home and family did not subside as the weeks rolled by. I missed them more and more. I would wake up in the middle of the night with tears streaming down my face after having a dream of them. There was one dream in particular that was especially horrible. I was in my house, the one in Virginia. All my family and friends were there. We were having a party of some sort. It was a lot of fun. I was laughing and whole again. Not torn in two. Suddenly, I felt something tugging on me. It was pulling me away from everything I loved. All my family and friends had just stared at me in sadness as I was dragged, kicking and screaming, away. I woke up then and found my bed drenched in sweat and tears. The next morning, Louise had been very concerned about me and wondered what had caused me to get the bed so wet. I never told her. She wouldn't have understood.

My "purging of thoughts", then, was not going as well as I would have liked. Memories of home drifted into my head when I least expected, and wanted them, to. There were also so many new things to get used to. But, that was less of a problem than my missing home.

The bright spot of my day was going to dinner with Erik. We always had it in the dining room across from the downstairs parlor. I wasn't allowed upstairs anymore. Erik told me he wanted his privacy. The downstairs was my domain; the upstairs was his. And I respected that.

I can't say we had lively conversations at dinner. He wasn't much of a talker, but he did occasionally ask me questions about myself and my home. I lied more often than not. Though I had a sneaking suspicion as time went by that he wouldn't think the truth crazy, I wasn't willing to tell all yet. He seemed to understand this and asked general questions without wanting too much detail.

A week and a half after the audience, we were sitting at the dinner table and I decided to ask about his past. I wanted to know if he would tell me the truth or if he would lie like I had been doing. We were having some sort of chicken that night. I didn't know quite what it was. But, it was good. Louise had just poured me a glass of water (I could never get used to drinking wine), when I popped my question.

"I've told you a great deal about myself, but you have told me nothing about yourself. Where do you come from? What have you done for a living? What's your past like?" The part of his face I could see turned a pale white. I knew I had touched a soft spot. Would he tell all? That was what I was wondering.

"There's not much to tell, child. I grew up not unlike most children, though I grew up faster than they. I built things and drew things. I composed music and even once I taught someone to sing. That is all there is to tell about my life." He took a bite of the food and I knew the conversation was over. He would tell me in his own time. Don't rush him. He'd tell. Two days later, he asked me to refrain from asking questions about his past. I agreed.

So, three weeks went by. Nothing exciting happened. Life seemed to be going on in a good and steady way. August was fast approaching. But, is in it always that when you least expect it, something happens? That something happened right after dinner in the middle of my sixth week there. I soon learned some other things that Erik the Phantom did not like.


	9. Chapter 9: Singing

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapter.

Chapter 9: Singing

It was my sixth week there in Paris. July was almost over; August was only a week away. I was having my normal dinner with Erik. It wasn't a very lively dinner. No talking at all. We just ate and every once in a while looked at each other. I was bored and wanted to do something with him. We hadn't done anything together except eat. I decided to change all of that. A bright idea entered my mind: music. I wondered if I could convince him to play something for me. It was worth a try. I cleared my throat and he looked up at me.

"Yes, Elizabeth? I can see you have something you want to ask." He gave me a haggard look. "Is it another question about my past? You know I politely asked you to stop asking those kinds of questions." He had and I remained a good little girl and didn't ask any. But, I think he feared my curiosity and knew I just might ask a question. He had nothing to truly fear, though.

"No. Nothing of that sort. I was just wondering." I hesitated. Should I ask? He asked me to continue. "Well, I was wondering if you wouldn't mind playing something for me on the piano. You were wonderful the night I went upstairs and listened. I've also enjoyed your playing during the night. So, would you mind?" I gave him my best puppy-dog look. I think it went over his head, but he agreed anyway.

"All right, child. Since you enjoy it so much, I shall play you something. Are you done with your dinner?" I nodded. Louise came and collected our plates. We went upstairs and into the piano room, as I named the room with the piano. There didn't seem to be a better name for it.

Erik walked over and sat at the piano. He seemed to be thinking of a song to play. I stood on one side of the piano and watched. His eyes lit up and he began to play. The song was beautiful. There are no words to do it justice. I stood there in a trance, as the music washed over me. I didn't even know when I started to hum. I couldn't help myself. It was a beautiful piece and the music compelled me to. I hummed softly along, enjoying myself very much.

With a move quicker than I'd ever seen a normal human execute, Erik slammed his hands down on the keys, causing a noise like a shrieking cat. I jumped, my humming evaporating into the air. He sprang up off the bench and come toward me in a threatening manner. His eyes were a blaze with furry. It was then that I realized his temper was not completely gone or controlled. One mistake on my part and it would all be over.

"Don't you ever sing!" He cried, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me. His fingers dug deep into my skin and I could feel bruises forming. There was nothing I could do to escape. "Don't you ever sing in my presence. Do you hear me? I can't handle it. I just can't handle it." Tears pooled in his eyes and he let go. I slumped against the wall, my heart pounding and my body shaking uncontrollably. I couldn't move.

"Leave me." He whispered, turning his back on me. "Leave me." I fled out of the room as fast as my shaking feet could carry me. I was petrified. I raced past Louise who looked concerned and tried to question me. I ignored her. Running into my room, I slammed the door, threw myself onto the bed, and wept. I didn't see Erik again for another week.


	10. Chapter 10: Reuniting and Forgiveness

Disclaimer: The usual: please see previous chapter. Thank you.

A/N: Sorry the last two chapters were pretty short. I can't say this one will be any longer, but I will see what I can do. Thanks for reading!

P.S. Lady Karol- Thanks for reviewing. I really appreciate it. And, I know it's annoying. But, think about it. If you were trying not to fall in love with someone and they were a good deal younger than you, wouldn't you want to stress the age difference? That's kind of what he's doing. So, I hope that helps explain it. Again, thanks for the nice review!

Chapter 10: Reuniting and Forgiveness

That one week of exile from him was horrible for me. I knew what I had done and the guilt weighed heavily on my heart. Christine's voice had been beautiful; he had taught her to sing. My humming, even though it wasn't really singing, had reminded him of her and all that he had lost. I should have known that. How many times had I imagined him broken hearted over his lose of her? More times than I could count. I knew what I had done was unforgivable. I couldn't even forgive myself.

The bruises were my physical reminder of what I had done. I woke up the next morning with my shoulders so sore, I could hardly move them. It was awful. Louise had to run to the doctor's to see if there was a pain medication he could prescribe for me. Unfortunately, there wasn't one, so I lived with the pain. Every movement was a reminder of my failure. I wondered constantly where he was. What he was doing. My heart was breaking at the thought of his heart breaking. I loved him and I could not deny it.

Louise took it all in strides. She knew Master and I had had an argument. About what, she could not even guess. She knew he hadn't beaten me, but had grabbed me. Choosing not to say anything about it, though, she tended to the bruises in the best way she could and tried to make my first few days of carrying them bearable. I appreciated her kindness. Lord knows I did not deserve it.

At about the fourth day, the pain had subsided to a more moderate level and I was again busy helping Louise with chores. Like the mother hen she was, she didn't let me carry anything or do something that could cause my shoulders to start hurting again. I told her it was fine and that I could handle it: pain in my shoulders was better than the pain in my heart. She still refused. I allowed her to have her way. She was fifty years old, what could I do?

The week went by slowly. I healed on the outside, but not truly on the inside. I don't think I could have until I knew he had forgiven me. Which I never expected him to do. But, he was Erik, meaning he was full of surprises.

I was dusting some shelves in the library (yes, he had a library; it was my favorite place in the whole house), when Louise came in. I asked her what was up and if she needed me to do something. She shook her head.

"Master desires to see you in the upstairs parlor." I dropped the feather duster. I looked at her like she had sprung two horns on the top of her head. Erik wanted to see me? I couldn't believe it.

"Are you sure?" I questioned, bending down to pick the duster back up. "I don't think he'd want to see me."

"Of course he'd want to see you, dear. He likes you, in his own little way. You are doing him good. Now, come along. He wants to see you now." I followed her out the door and up the stairs. My heart was heavy. What could he want with me? I was still surprised he hadn't turned me out. I probably would have done that to myself if I had been in his place. Louise left me at the door and went downstairs to finish the dusting I had to stop.

I entered the room slowly, my feet dragging across the floor. I didn't want to be there. The windows were both drawn closed; I had learned that Erik preferred the dark to the light. He was sitting at the piano bench looking at me sadly. I stopped right in front of the door. My feet wouldn't bulge another inch.

"So, you are afraid of me now. Is in it just as I told you would happen?" He laughed a sad laugh. I felt bad, but I just couldn't move. "Please, Elizabeth, come closer. Don't be afraid. I promise you I wouldn't hurt you."

"Do you promise on your honor?" I squeaked. A shudder ran through my body. Why was I scared? I didn't know. Maybe my previous experience in that room had lodged itself deeper in my mind than I had originally thought.

"What honor do I have? None that I could swear upon. You know that. You tasted some of it a week ago. But, please come here." He beckoned me with his hand. My heart won past my fear and my brain. I stepped toward him, my fear retreating into the background of my mind. He would do me no harm. I knew that.

"Thank you. It's good to know you trust me, at least a little bit." I was standing right in front of me. He reached out and took my hands in his. Ever seen a love sick girl before? Do you know what happens when her love interest touches her? She blushes to her roots and her eyes gleam with joy. I can tell you (and Erik would have agreed) that I was doing just that. I was a girl with a crush. The minute he took my hands into his, I was in heaven.

"Elizabeth, I've never been good at apologizing. I usually require others to do that." He sighed there. I think I knew what he was referring to, but kept it to myself. "But, I ask you. Would you please forgive me? It was never my intent to hurt you. You see, singing is very important to me. And, once, someone I loved deeply was a singer. It hurts to think about her. Can you understand that? So, singing is not one of those things I like to hear anymore." He looked at me expectantly.

"I can understand, but I wish you would have told me. I would never have started to hum. But, yes, I forgive you." I smiled shyly. "How could I not? You apologize very well." He laughed.

"I disagree with that, but it's good to know you think so." He looked intensely into my eyes. Releasing one of my hands, he touched my shoulder gently. I tried not to wince. They were still sore. "How are your shoulders? Louise told me about them being bruised."

"They're doing better. Thank you. Louise says the bruises should be gone by next week." He nodded and took his hand off my shoulder. His right hand still clasped my left hand. I hoped he'd never let go.

"Good. Now, one more question for you." He gazed into my eyes. I must admit, it was weird looking him in the eyes since one side of his face was covered with a white mask. It usually took a lot of effort to look at his eyes, not the mask. "Does the mask still bother you?" I wondered where that had come from. It was as if he had read my mind. Could he do that?

"It never bothered me, Erik. I just…" I stopped. He didn't want to hear where that thought was going. But, apparently his curiosity was aroused.

"You just what? Don't be shy. You can tell me."

"It's just that, you don't need to wear the mask around me. I don't know what you are hiding, but I wouldn't be scared." That sounded sort of stupid in my ears. I couldn't tell him that I'd seen him without the mask before, even though it was in a movie. Erik shook his head violently, his hair swaying due to the movement.

"You will never see what is under this mask. It is too horrible for a child like you. Don't even think such thoughts in your head." He released my hand, stood up, and patted me on the head in a good natured sort of way. "Come now. I think Louise told me she'd have dinner ready. And I'm starved."

I followed him as he led the way. Two thoughts were churning around inside my head. One of them was that I wished he'd stop calling me "child". I wasn't a child. I was eighteen and he knew it. I was an adult. The other was that he was treating me like a child. I was ready to scream. I was eighteen. Why must he treat me as a child? I'm too old for pats on the head. A kiss would have been better.

Then another thought flowed through my head. I saw that with Christine and my own young age he could never fall in love with me. And that hurt worse than the bruises.


	11. Chapter 11: Four Month Interlude

Disclaimer: I own nothing, but you knew that.

Chapter 11: Four Month Interlude

Four months went by fairly quickly. You're probably wondering why I'm skipping so much time. Simply put, there really isn't much to tell about those four months. It was a rather quiet period in my stay there. I continued to help Louise around the house and Erik continued to have dinner with me. The bruises Erik had inflected soon disappeared. Less then a month later, I was back to normal.

There were, however, two important events that happened within those four months. One of them was that Erik played the piano again for me. It happened two months after the disaster of the first time. The subject of music had been avoided since then. Neither of us was anxious for a repeat.

I was busy in the kitchen that day, helping Louise cook some sort of soup. It was known by then that I was a terrible chef, so Louise had me stirring it. While she was down in the pantry fetching some sort of vegetable, Erik walked into the kitchen. I was surprised to see him. He never showed himself before dinner.

"Smells delicious. I take it we're having this for dinner?" He questioned as he walked over and looked at the soup. Without answering, I scooped a little up and offered it to him to taste. He gladly accepted.

"That tastes wonderful. You two outdid yourselves today." Louise heard that comment and laughed as she walked back into the room, arms loaded with vegetables. "Why are you laughing?" Erik asked, cocking his head to the side.

"She's laughing because I had nothing to do with it. I can't cook. My biggest part is stirring the soup." He laughed at me. His eyes were alight with joy. I always loved seeing him like that. There were too many times when those eyes were sad or angry.

"Louise, you better not leave my service anytime soon then. With that report, I don't think I'd trust Elizabeth to cook my supper." I was tempted to throw some soup at him. Instead, I opted for one of the vegetables Louise had laid down on the table. Erik caught it in his hand and shook his head.

"You should learn to throw better, Elizabeth. But, I didn't come down here to congratulate you on good soup. I came to see if I could take your helper away for a few minutes, Louise."

"Well, of course, sir. You can take her if you wish. She's not much help anyway." Louise winked at me. "She can't even cook a loaf of bread. Take her away and leave me and my kitchen in peace." Both of them enjoyed teasing me. Probably because I was the youngest of the group.

"Will do, Louise. Will do. Come, Elizabeth. There is something I want you to hear." I followed him out of the kitchen, sending evil glances Louise's way. She just laughed and continued to cook.

Erik and I walked up the stairs to the piano/parlor room. I hadn't been up there since had he asked me to forgive him for the bruises and his anger. Nothing had changed. There was still a couch, some high backed chairs, and the piano. He walked over to that and sat down.

"I wrote this a few days ago and I wanted to see what you thought of it." It dawned on me that he was actually going to play something for me. I couldn't believe it. I was overjoyed. I loved his playing and I still heard it sometimes in the dead of night when all other creatures were asleep, save him.

He started played the song. Emotions washed over me; mainly those of sadness and sorrow. It was a sad song. Being careful not to get too carried along, I made sure I didn't hum or sing but just swayed along with the music. The song ended too soon for me. He sat back and waited to hear my remarks.

"I thought it was beautiful." I said, smiling at him. "Where did you ever learn to play like that? I've known plenty of musicians and none of them could ever play that well." He smiled happily.

"I'm glad you like it. It's not finished and I do not have a name for it as of yet. Where did I learn? I taught myself." He sank into deep thought. When he emerged, his first comment was on my knowing musicians. "You've known some musicians, yes? That is something you've never told me before."

"Well, I haven't known anyone famous, but my brother liked to play the piano." More appropriately, it would have been that my brother will like to play the piano, but Erik didn't know about my "past" yet. "Please, let's not discuss that." I begged. He agreed.

From then on, every few days or so, he'd invite me upstairs and play something for me. Those were the best of times. He was usually in a good mood and we'd talk for an hour or two. The only downfall was that he still treated me like a child. And I hated it. I was in love with him and he couldn't or wouldn't see it. As frustrating as it was, though, I sort of understood.

The second important event of those four months was Christmas. Yes, Christmas. That is one of the best times of the year. For me, though, it only reminded me of what I had lost. It was my first Christmas without family. And though I was beginning to think of Erik and Louise as family, they couldn't replace my mom or dad or brother. I tried to loose myself in the holiday and not think of them.

One question nagged at me as the time for Christmas drew near, what was I to get Erik? What do you get for someone who seems to have everything? I asked Louise about it. She was no help.

"Whatever you get him will be good, dear. As long as it's from you." I wanted to scream. This was worse than buying for my boyfriend, who only wanted kisses for Christmas. I finally decided to get him something generic: a music book. Silly, I know. What did the greatest genius of all times need with a music book? Nothing. But, it was all I could think of.

Christmas came. We had a nice breakfast and then we exchanged presents. Louise was included in this because she didn't have family close enough to visit with and because she was just part of the family. I gave Louise a scarf and a brooch. She was very happy with them. Erik laughed at my gift but said he would have great fun playing the songs out of it (in reality, I don't think he ever used it).

For me, Louise had gotten a fairy tale book, full of colorful pictures. I absolutely loved it. I started flipping through it and reading one of the stories when Erik cleared his throat. I had forgotten that Erik still had a gift to give to me.

"Here you go, child. I know it's not practical, but I hope you like it." He handed me a small box. I opened it, nearly screaming. No, it wasn't a ring. That comes later. It was a silver bracelet with sapphires in it. It was gorgeous.

"Thank you so much, Erik. I love it." He smiled and I leaned over and gave him a hug. It was the first time I'd ever dared to do that and I caught him off guard. But, I think he liked it.

"Merry Christmas, Elizabeth." He pulled away and looked at me. "I'm glad you have made yourself at home here. I hope we have many more good Christmases to come." We all agreed to that. So, my first Christmas in Paris went well.

New Years came on fast after Christmas. I decided to throw a party for the three of us. Louise thought it great fun. She helped me make appetizer food (which turned out okay, if I may say so myself) and I decorated the house with colorful paper I had found. Erik just shook his head and let us have our fun. I suppose the concept of a New Year's party without friends was a little weird, but I didn't care. He had no friends and I had none either, so it was a "family" affair.

It went rather well. Around ten o'clock, we heard fireworks. Someone else was obviously having a party. I went outside to try to see them. Unfortunately, the other houses in the area blocked the view. Needless to say, Erik stayed inside. I stood outside for a few minutes, though, watching the snow fall down. It was a beautiful night.

At midnight, Louise and I cheered. Erik just smiled. I had a feeling he was just doing this to please us and had no real interest in it at all. I ran around and hugged each of them. I must admit, I hugged Erik longer than I probably should have. Couldn't help it. He was slightly uncomfortable and I let him go due to that.

"Happy New Year"! I exclaimed. I received the same answers in return and we all went to bed. I had a hard time falling asleep because of the image of another New Year's party floating around in my head. It was the one that happened in the Phantom of the Opera movie. I wondered if Eric had been thinking about that. It wouldn't have surprised me. With those lovely thoughts floating around in my head and "Masquerade" playing in my head as well, I went to sleep.


	12. Chapter 12: The Outside

A/N: Just to let you know, you will probably not see any updates this next week. I have four tests for school and I need to study. If I fail that darn math test again, I'll be in big trouble. I'm sure you all understand about school and studying. So don't panic. Unlike my other fic, I have plenty of ideas for this one. Stay warm! -Alia G.L.

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

Chapter 12: The Outside

January 1st dawned bright and cold. Snow had fallen the night of my New Year's Eve party and it caused the whole area to sparkle. It was a winter wonderland. I opened my window, letting the cold air caress me. Another one of my brilliant (or not so brilliant) ideas popped into my head. There was a park a few minutes drive from the house. I wanted to go walk around it in the snow. And I wanted Erik to come with me. There was just one problem, and I'm sure you all see it.

Erik shied away from the light. He was a creature of the night and would not go into the daylight. In fact, I don't think I'd ever seen him when it was sunny outside save the morning when I first met him and Christmas. Usually, I saw him during the evenings. Even then, the blinds were typically drawn as tight as they could be. He turned his face from "the garish light of day", as the song so rightly put it. But, I wanted to change all that.

I was never a brave person. That day though, I was brave. Or maybe it was just foolish. After quickly dressing, I ran upstairs to find Erik. Now, you all will recall that the upstairs was his domain. He never wanted me to go up there without his consent. I didn't have his consent that day. I just ran up without even thinking about it.

I checked out the piano room, but he wasn't there. Perhaps he was still sleeping. It was rather early and we'd been up to midnight, ringing in the new year. I glanced down the hall, trying to decide which door to knock on. I'd never seen his bedroom and I didn't know where to begin the search. I decided upon the left side of the hall.

As I walked toward the last door on the left side, I felt that it was too quite upstairs. I could hear Louise bustling in the kitchen making breakfast, but the upstairs was silent. It reminded me of a grave yard. I shuddered as I knocked on the door. No answer. Apparently, that wasn't his bedroom. Before I could turn, a hand came from behind and covered my mouth. I tried not to scream.

"What are you doing up this early, mademoiselle?" A cool voice questioned me. I relaxed, hearing that it was Erik. He spun me around to face him.

"I want to go for a walk in the park." I said defiantly. I could tell he wasn't too pleased. I probably had woken him up, which I didn't care too much about. What could he do to me? Nothing really.

"A walk in the park? Why? And why would you come up here to tell me?" He raised an eyebrow. I noticed that some of his hair wasn't in order and that the mask was tilted. So, he had just gotten up out of bed. I wanted to laugh.

"It's such a beautiful day outside, Erik, and I just can't spend it indoors. I've barely been outside these six months. It's only when Louise and I go shopping and that doesn't happen as often as I would like. Please? Would you take me to the park? No one will be there. Most people are still sleeping. Please?" I begged, grabbing his hand in mine. I sounded like a child. I know I did. Meaning I deserved that term of endearment at the moment.

"Take you to the park, child? That is what Louise is here for. She may take you there whenever you wish." I shook my head.

"No. I want you to take me. I only ever see you at dinner and when you decide to play for me. I want to do something else with you besides all that. A walk in the park would be perfect." He made a motion to protest, but I cut him off. "Don't. I know what you are going to say. There is nothing wrong with the mask. People will look at it and ignore it. And if they ask questions, just say you were in a fire as a child and you don't want to scare people." He looked surprised that I'd thought of such a thing. Of course, I'd had plenty of time to think about it. Remember those daydreams I was telling you about?

"I don't think it is a good idea." He replied, looking uncomfortable. "I don't typically go out into the light. I prefer the dark, as I'm sure you've seen."

"I know, but it's time to try new horizons. Please? We wouldn't have to stay long. Just long enough for me to walk around a little." In the end, I won out. I don't think he could have refused me anything; save to see what was behind the mask. I went back downstairs, told Louise what we were doing, and grabbed my winter cloak. Erik went out and got the carriage ready.

Oh, yes. Erik had a small place in the back where he kept a horse and a carriage. Some young boy took care of the horse. I never saw him. He was one of those "invisible" people. Apparently, he walked the horse everyday and fed him. Erik knew how to hitch up the horse, so no one was needed for that job or driving. Though on the day he rescued me, someone else had been driving. Why, I never found out.

I waited by the door as Erik drove around. I'd never been in a horse-drawn carriage before. Louise and I had always walked to the market. Erik helped me in and we were off. It was slow going at first due to the amount of snow. It got easier the closer to the park we got. There were very few people about. Erik had his cloak drawn up close to his face, hiding the mask. I was just excited to be out of the house.

We arrived at the park and Erik tied the horse to a post. There was no one in sight. Everyone must have been suffering from hangovers. Erik tried to convince me that he should remain by the horse, but I wouldn't let him. I pretty much dragged him into the park with me.

It was a gorgeous day and the park shimmered under the snow. I ran around, looking at the icicles and snow. Erik followed looking as out of place as a bird in water. I felt bad about asking him to come, but only for a second. This was good for him. He needed to learn how to conduct himself around others.

I decided to get back at him for all the teasing he'd done over the past six months. He had his back turned and was watching two squirrels dash across the path. I raced behind a tree. When he looked up, I was gone.

"Elizabeth, where are you? Come out this instance." He glanced around before sighing. Meanwhile, I was busy making a snowball. The snow was perfect for those. It was hard and formed well under my hands. I smiled. This was going to be fun. Taking aim, I threw the ball as hard as I could. It smacked him in the back of the head.

He whipped around and glared at me. I was almost bent over laughing. Snow dripped off his hair. It was just too funny. Before I could recover, however, a ball of snow smacked me in the shoulder. I glanced up and saw him smiling, another snowball in his hand.

So began a fun game of snowball fight. I ran for my life as he chased me. The snowball he had just barely missed me when he threw it. I was laughing so hard I wanted to cry. I ducked behind another tree and made more snowballs. I shot them at him. Most missed, but one or two found their mark.

Erik was laughing hard as well. His snowballs found their mark more often than not. I was dripping with snow. I didn't care; it was fun. In some way, I knew I was giving him a piece of his childhood back that he never had. And that thought encouraged me and made me throw harder.

He surprised me, though, by disappearing and then reappearing directly behind me. I yelped and ran. A snowball hit me in the back. I toppled over, laughing as I did so. Erik ran up, looking concerned.

"Are you okay, child? I hope I didn't hurt you." He was trying not to laugh. It must have been hysterical to see me lying in the snow. I smiled evilly. When he tried to help me up, I pulled him down. He gasped in surprise as he landed next to me. I immediately started throwing snow on him. This was just too much fun. He struggled to get up, but found his progress hindered by the snow I was piling on him.

I must have crossed a line somewhere, probably by pulling him down next to me (Was that even proper in the 19th century?), because he reached out and grabbed my wrists. I didn't struggle; I knew it to be useless. He by far overpowered me.

"That's enough, Elizabeth. I think it's time we leave." I agreed, though I really didn't want to. He pulled me up and we headed back to the carriage. The trip home was made in silence. We were both uncomfortable, why I don't know. Maybe I was awakening something in him that he didn't want to be awakened. Maybe, despite it all, he was falling in love with me. I wanted that more than anything. But, in retrospect, I think he was just starting to realize that we could be great friends. He was also realizing that girls weren't always meant for just falling in love with. They were for friendships, too.

We walked back into the house and Louise asked how our walk went. She seemed pleased "Master" had gone out with me. Maybe she was suffering from the matchmaker condition. We told her it had been fine and Erik said he was retiring to rest. He still walked me to my room, though. Before leaving me, he smiled and said.

"I had a fun time, Elizabeth. Thank you for asking me to come with you." He thought for a moment. "The light isn't such a bad thing." With that, he slipped away like the ghost that he was. All I could hope was that this had opened up a new door for us. I wasn't totally disappointed.


	13. Chapter 13: Friendship

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters. Thank you.

A/N: Look! Look! I posted something. Good for me. I hope you all like this chapter. As stated in previous chapter, not sure how often I'll be able to post this week. School and studying are taking up most of my time. But, I may get another chapter or two up. We'll see. So, read, review, and enjoy. –Alia G. L.

Chapter 13: Friendship

Due to my little adventure in the snow, I spent the next week with a terrible cold. I was constantly sneezing and coughing. Poor Louise. She must have had to have gone out every day over the course of the week to by me new handkerchiefs. I was going through them faster than they could be cleaned. There were no such things as Kleenexes back then. A pity, because I sure could have used some.

Erik said I should have known better than to go out in the snow and throw snowballs. I retorted that if he hadn't thrown them back, I wouldn't be sick. His reply was that if I hadn't pulled him down, we'd never have had this problem. I pointed out that it was him who had thrown the snowball that had made me fall in the first place. He just laughed at that. In reality, I didn't care about the cold. It wasn't life threatening and the snowball fight had been worth it. And the cold went away fairly quickly. Soon my thoughts turned to other subjects.

My birthday was fast approaching, it being in the middle of January. I didn't tell Erik or Louise, though. When it came about, I celebrated it quietly by myself. I used it as a time to remember my parents, brother, and friends, who, at the moment, were lost to me. Erik noticed I was different and more subdued on that day but contributed it to some other past event, i.e. my fleeing America. So, without ceremony, I turned nineteen.

A few more months flowed by. Erik and I soon became the best of friends. We talked of everything and nothing. We discussed politics, weather, America, Paris, fashions, painters, and many other brilliant subjects. Erik proved he was the genius the movie and book claimed he was. He'd sit down with me and explain the intricacies of paintings and buildings and even politics, which was my worst subject. He was so full of knowledge. Only one subject was off-limits: our pasts. We both guarded those as if they were precious treasures.

We continued to go to the park every day, and if not every day, every other day. It soon became a ritual. The snow and rain never bothered us. We'd walk around and if I could remember them, I'd tell him the names of plants and animals and any legends I knew about them. Erik was into legends and myths. I wonder what he would have thought if I'd told him that in my world, he was a legend.

Sometimes I'd bring a book and read it out loud in some secluded spot. We avoided other people at all costs. Erik was still nervous about the mask and always kept it hidden from view. That meant if we ran into someone, he'd turn his face to the side. I felt terrible for him, but I knew he'd have to get over it.

Slowly, I was breaking through the ice that had surrounded his heart since Christine's rejection. He trusted me more and our friendship blossomed with the coming spring. I don't believe he was in love with me, though. I was in love with him, but he wasn't ready for that. I prayed often that I wouldn't do anything to cause his heart to freeze over again.

I wore Erik's bracelet whenever I could. Of course, doing chores around the house wasn't conducive for priceless bracelets, so I normally just wore it for dinner and while Erik played the piano. He only commented on it once.

"I see you're wearing the bracelet I gave you." He pointed to the silver bracelet encircling my wrist. We were upstairs and I had been reading to him out of my fairy tale book.

"Yeah." I smiled and turned the bracelet around on my wrist. I did that a lot when I was nervous or at a loss for words. "It's gorgeous. Too bad housework doesn't go too well with it." He nodded and said it was a shame. That was the only time he mentioned the bracelet.

I made another interesting observation about the Phantom. I don't think he ever meant for me to see it and the minute he noticed it was out, he shoved it back under his shirt. "It" was the ring Christine had given him. He wore it always on a chain around his neck. I dared not ask him where it came from, though I already knew. He also knew that I had seen it. It became another topic that was off limits to discuss.

June came on with beautiful weather. Our hours spent at the park increased. Since I never told them my birthday, Erik threw a small party for me on the anniversary of my coming to live with him. It was nothing fancy. Louise baked a cake and we had a nice dinner. I didn't receive any gifts.

Though he never spoke of it, I knew Erik was running out of money. Let's just say it was woman's intuition. He could have only put so much away from when he lived at the opera house. He needed a job. Being the person that I was, I tried to see what I could find. And I found the perfect one for him…


	14. Chapter 14: Music Lessons

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Don't sue!

Q and A: I had a question as to how Elizabeth could speak French. It's one of those weird alternate dimension things. What they say sounds like English to her, but what she says sounds like French to them. Also, it makes the story flow better if you use English. :) Good question, though. Sorry for not answering it sooner.

Chapter 14: Music Lessons

I leaned over Erik's shoulder one June evening as he played the piano. My hand rested comfortably on his shoulder. He didn't try to remove it. I took that as a good sign. It was time to break my news to him.

"Erik?" I asked.

"Hum?" He replied, stopping the music and looking up at me. "What is it, Elizabeth?"

"I was thinking. You're such a good musician." He bowed his head at the compliment. All I hoped was that the Punjab lasso wasn't anywhere in the near area. He probably wasn't going to like what was coming next. "Well, don't you want to give lessons since you're so good? You know, pass on the talent?"

"Lessons?" He gave me a look of complete disbelief. At least there was still no lasso in sight. So far, so good.

"Yes, you know. Teach some of the richer children how to play. I was at the market with Louise the other day and we overheard some ladies talking about not having any good music teachers around. You could do it, Erik. You are the best." Due to my friendship with him, he didn't kick me out right then and there. He paused to consider it. I knew whatever money he had would not last forever. He needed a way to earn more to support all three of us. This, in my opinion, was the best way.

"I'll consider it." He turned and went back to playing. I had to be content with that. If I pushed too hard, he wouldn't even consider it. I thought nothing more of it. Obviously, he would reject the idea. I mean, it consisted of coming in contact with people. His worst fear.

I was then surprised a week later, when he walked into the library looking nervous. A piece of paper was clutched tightly in his hands. I was immediately concerned. What was going on?

"Elizabeth, it was your idea and I need your advice." I put down the book I was reading. My idea? What did he mean by that? What had I done now?

"What do you need?" He handed me the paper. It was a letter from some lady asking Erik to provide piano lessons for her son at their home in northern Paris. I was shocked. He had listened to my idea. Meaning, he needed money.

"I don't know what to do. My interaction with others is limited, to put it nicely. How do I go about replying to this woman? What should my conduct be? Elizabeth, you got me into this mess. Help me get out!" He looked like a caged animal. I felt bad. But, obviously, if he'd steep this low, he was in financial trouble.

"First off, you need to arrange a meeting to meet this lady and her son. You must also explain in the letter that you are disfigured and that you will wear a mask." He gave me a haggard look. I expected him to say "Do I have to?" but I answered it before he could ask. "And yes, you have to. If not, they may panic and ask questions. Just tell them it was a childhood accident." He gave me a nervous look, but quickly composed himself.

"I'll do whatever needs to be done." He stated. I was proud of him. He had changed in the last three years since the opera disaster. I helped him compose a letter to the Countess and he explained about his deformity and policies for teaching. A few days later, a letter arrived giving a date for us to go meet with her and her son. She was very nice and quick to say that a mask wouldn't bother her.

Two days later, we were in the carriage and off to her house in northern Paris. I'd done my research and found her to be quite rich with a reputation of being a friendly sort of woman. That was good. Erik didn't need anyone to snap at him. God knows what he would do if that happened. Her husband was in the shipping business and was rarely home. That was even better since I knew men had more of a tendency to gawk at Erik's mask than women.

We were invited into the house and met Countess de Ray and her son, Alex. Both were charming and we stayed in contact with both of them long after the piano lessons were over. At the present, though, the Countess introduced us to her son. Alex at first was nervous around Erik. Who wouldn't be with the mask and that tall height? I was nervous the first time I met him.

There was, however, a completely other side to Erik that I'd never seen before. He started talking to Alex and before you could blink, they were the best of friends. Erik just happened to be good with children. Odd, is in it? You would expect him to be shy and awkward around a child. At least, that was my first thought. It wasn't the case.

The Countess requested Erik to play something for her. She wanted to make sure he was as good as he claimed. I must say, she wasn't disappointed. He played the most beautiful song I had ever heard. Later, he told me he had been nervous, wanting to make a good impression and the song had just come to him. I was always amazed by his ability to suddenly compose a song in minutes.

The Countess was quick to hire Erik has an instructor for her son. She claimed he was the best she had ever heard in her life. That wasn't such a stretch. After all, he was a genius.

The lessons were given twice a week, on Mondays and Fridays. Erik was careful and quick to come to me with questions about how you acted around a ten year old. I usually accompanied him to the lessons and sat talking with the Countess. A very nice lady, if I do say so myself.

I had one very interesting conversation with her that I had dreaded since the beginning of our acquaintance. It was about two weeks since Erik had started the lessons and at the moment, he was teaching Alex a new song on the piano. The Countess and I were watching and talking about the lessons. She paused for a second during the conversation.

"May I ask you a question?" I told her sure, ask away. I had nothing to hide.

"What is your relationship with Monsieur Erik? Is he a relative of yours? When I asked him, he just brushed the question off. But, I was wondering for it's odd for a woman of your age to be staying with a man of his age unless you are related." She looked at me expectantly. Oh, what was I to say? I knew how some people reacted to non-married, non-related people living together. For once, I opted for the truth.

"Actually, we're not related." She started, but I ignored her. "He rescued me from some thugs and since I had no where to go, he offered to take me in. I wasn't about to refuse so I've been living with him."

"Ah." She shook her head and that was the end of it. We changed subjects. I knew she was uncomfortable with the fact I was living with a man who was not my husband or relative. But, she dealt with it. It wasn't like we were doing anything we weren't supposed to. Erik rarely, if ever, touched me.

So, the music lessons continued on. It was a great success. I was happy I'd found him something to do. He was slowly getting used to people, which was what I wanted to happen. He couldn't stay a recluse forever.

On a side note, since I know you all are wondering. I didn't slip in referring to the future. I was very careful in what I said and the minute I felt compelled to state some future fact, I'd shut my mouth. I'd seen enough shows where disaster came from revealing the future to know better than to do it.

It was a struggle, though. There was so much from my past that I wanted. Tiny creature comforts that I'd never been without before in my life. There were plenty of times when I wanted to scream for lack of them. But, I didn't. I kept it all inside. Unfortunately, the volcano was soon to erupt.


	15. Chapter 15: Of Birthdays, Music, and

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters. Thank you.

A/N: Sorry it's been a while. School, school, and more school. I'm sure you know how it is. Well, enjoy this latest chapter.

Chapter 15: Of Birthdays, Music, and Randomness

Louise was very happy to see Erik up and about. She was especially glad to hear that he had gotten a real job. She confided in me that she'd been worried about him.

"It's not natural for Master to be so reclusive. A man should get out and about and meet people." She whispered one day while we were cooking supper. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to him. If not for you, he'd never have gone outside." I doubted I was the best thing to happen to him, but I kept quiet.

The music business was thriving. Countess de Ray spread the word that her son had the most wonderful instructor of all. She was forever praising Erik's artistic ability to me while we talked during the lessons. She could seem to say nothing bad about him. If only she knew all that I knew. But, she didn't. The Countess seemed to have put aside her natural misgivings of two unmarried people living together. Maybe she recognized the age difference or that I had no where else to go. Either way, she spread word about Erik to all her friends. Soon we had letters coming in asking if Erik would instruct someone or if he'd come play something.

Erik was still Erik, however. No matter how many people sent him letters begging for instruction, he only picked those that he wanted. Most of those poor people didn't even get "thanks, but no thanks" letters. Erik just refused to write them.

"They just want to see me because I am a novelty." He told me one day in early September, three months after the first music lesson. We'd been going through some letters and I had asked him why he never responded back. His eyes grew sad at some distant memory. "I hate being a novelty. I was that for a good portion of my childhood." He turned his face toward me, anger now burning in those beautiful eyes. "I will not bow to their every whim."

That was the last that was heard on that subject. He eventually took one more student under his wing, a young boy of middle class parents. His name was Jack and he was a sweet boy of around twelve. His passion for music had caused his parents to search everywhere for a decent instructor. Erik was their pick. The two of them became good friends. It was fun watching Erik with the children. He was so good with them.

I must admit, I was always somewhat concerned about the mask. What would people's reaction to it be? Would they treat him as a decent human? Or mock and treat him like some animal? Thankfully, most of the people we encountered over the course of the months treated him with respect. In fact, I think the mask helped to give him that respect. People have a healthy fear and respect for the unknown. The worst we had to deal with, at the time, was just people staring. But, Erik was used to that and would just glare back. Most of them soon lost their nerve after having his cold steel eyes staring back at them. Erik was rather intimidating.

From September, seven months flew by rapidly. Erik and I still took our daily walks in the park, but they were shorter now as our time was consumed with the lessons. Erik would lock himself in his room and not be seen for a day at a time, working on his lessons. He got somewhat obsessed. As soon as I demanded more time with him, however, he was quick to cast all aside and come be with me.

Our friendship was very important to him. I think he'd rather cut off an arm than hurt me or disappoint me. I was still madly in love with him, but I contained my feelings. He wasn't ready for it. Unlike the flower blossoms, our friendship did not wither during the winter. It grew stronger as we learned together about having a business and how to make it run.

I was his unofficial guide to human behavior, as well. Erik was well versed in etiquette, but he still had plenty of questions. Especially questions concerning ten and twelve year old boy behavior. I can't say I was much help on that subject, being a girl, but I had had a younger brother so I knew more than he did. Any question he had about conduct, he'd come to me. I wasn't much help, being from the future and all that. But, I bought a book at the store about etiquette and began teaching myself stuff. So, we learned together.

Christmas came on and it was a merry time. Erik was invited to two or three parties, but declined. As I'm sure you all would have guessed. Our Christmas celebration was at home and very quiet. Louise was not with us this year, opting to go visit her brother instead. She was gone for about a fortnight. Erik and I celebrated by ourselves.

My present to him this year was a beautiful black woolen cloak. His old one had become dirty during our journeys to and from the houses of his students. I'd set out in middle November to have a nice one made. Erik was very pleased with it. He clasped it around his neck and didn't take it off the rest of the night. It made him look mysterious. His look of mysteriousness was also enhanced by the mask.

I received four new books as my presents. I was rather pleased. I am a natural reader and I had already read a good portion of his library. I had a lot of spare time outside of cooking and cleaning and being escort to Erik. He enjoyed watching me open them and as night time fell, I sat and read to him from one.

Due to Erik's generosity, Alex and Jack both got two weeks off from lessons. I can't say the boys were ecstatic. They very much enjoyed their lessons and Erik was fond of bringing treats for them. His Christmas gifts to both them were new music books. The boys were thrilled. A stern warning was placed on them to continue their practicing through the two weeks break. Both were quick to agree.

New Year's Eve came and went. 1875 dawned bright and beautiful. We hadn't stayed up late to celebrate this New Year. I had not been feeling well and I went to bed rather early. I woke up feeling worse and Erik was obliged to play doctor. He rather enjoyed it. With Louise back, he didn't have to worry about having to cook me soup or food, so he sat and read to me.

I could have gotten lost in his voice. It washed over me as he read and the stories came alive. It was wonderful. I now saw why Christine had followed him without question into the underground of the opera house in the movie. His voice was that compelling. One day, I begged him to sing something for me.

"Why do you want me to sing?" He questioned, closing the book and gazing at me with curiosity.

"Well, your voice is so perfect when reading the book…" He laughed, but I continued anyway. "It just has to be that perfect in singing too." He thought a moment and then started singing. Oh, my word. That's all I can say. It was the most beautiful voice. The movie didn't do it justice. I was carried away on a roller coaster ride of emotions. I have no idea what he sang, though. But, it was sad. When it was all over, I told him he had been wonderful. He just nodded and left the room.

I was better within a week and he was back to teaching lessons. I stayed at home the first week he went back to work, because I didn't feel quite up to going outside. It was during this time that Louise pried my birth day out of me. Don't ask how she did it. I was planning on keeping that my personal secret; a day to celebrate my loss of family and friends. But, she soon knew and a birthday celebration was planned. I was going to be turning twenty.

Erik didn't quite know what to make of my birthday party. I don't believe he ever had a birthday party or knew what one was. Louise had to explain to the "Master" about cake and presents and how it was celebrating the day you were born. He seemed to like the idea and we had nice party. I received many nice presents.

The next three months went by. Lessons consumed us and we were happy and content. As spring came on, though, I felt more of a longing for home. I would have given anything to go back. My mind was soon preoccupied with things of the future and it was all I could do to not blurt out some future event, item, or phrase. The guard on my tongues was increased double-fold.

Still, doom over took me. It was the middle of April and I had found that it was time to do some spring cleaning.


	16. Chapter 16: The Future Revealed

Disclaimer: You know what I'm going to say by now, so I won't bother.

A/N: Forgive this being so short. I figured I'd just cut right to the chase. I didn't think you all wanted me to drag this all out. So, here it is.

Chapter 16: The Future Revealed

The floors were so dirty from all the snow and dirt that had been tramped into the house during the winter that I knew they must be cleaned. It was my first stop on the spring cleaning list I had made. Louise was upstairs doing some dusting and I thought I was quite alone. Erik was off somewhere doing who knows what. I started scrubbing the floors.

It was a nice sort of job, one that afforded me plenty of time to think. My mind wandered to thoughts of home and the future. I wished I had a decent mop or vacuum cleaner. A DVD player and some movies might have been nice as well (that was not the last time I had a thought like that). One thought led to another and I was soon replaying "The Phantom of the Opera" movie inside my head. I'd watched it enough times to have it completely memorized. A hand was suddenly placed on my shoulder. I bolted up right and screamed. The bucket of water at my side was overturned. Water splashed onto the walls and ran down the hall.

"Shh." Erik said, laughing. "I'm not going to hurt you. My, you are jumpy, aren't you?" A smile toyed gently at his lips. I didn't see anything which was funny about this. My bucket of water was spilt and my heart must have been racing twenty miles a second. I lashed out without thinking.

"My word, you haven't changed a bit have you? Walking around like a ghost scaring people half out of their minds. Once a phantom, always a phantom, I guess." It took a good ten seconds and him starring at me in horror, face a deadly pale white, before I realized what I had said. I'd just blown my cover. Shoot. I wanted to scream in frustration now. When would I learn to control my infernal tongue?

Erik just stood there, looking at me. He didn't know quite what to make of my revelation. I knew what would come next: a demand for the truth. And it did. He strode over to me and pretty much slammed me against the wall. If I hadn't been scared before, I sure as heck was now. He leaned over and shouted at me.

"How did you know? I want the full truth out of you. Now!" His eyes were again ablaze with furry and fright. I think he was more afraid than angry. Afraid of me telling his secret. Afraid I'd turn him in to the police. Afraid I would never trust or respect him again. He just held me pinned against the wall, not shaking me or anything. Just holding me there. Pity welled up inside my heart. No man should ever have to feel like that. So, I told him everything.

As the story unfolded out of my mouth, his grip relaxed and his face became full of wonder. Half way through the story, I started crying. Realization of never seeing my family and loved ones again hit home hard. He insisted that I stop the story and then gently half walked; half carried me over to the parlor. Once seated down, I composed myself and finished.

I told him about my past and how I had lived in the future. I told him also about him being a legend in my world; the story of the movie soon came out of me. He was fascinated by it all. I informed him about everything I thought was important. Over the course of the next forty some years, however, I told him many of the smaller details of my life, like childhood events and inventions and that such. Now, though, it was just the basics. I did have to tell him about the movie and that entailed explaining television and the like. He understood that rather well, being the genius that he was. I ended by recounting my weird sickness and waking up in Paris. He just sat there and didn't say anything.

"Well," I whispered, blowing my nose with a handkerchief. "Do you believe me? Or are you going to send me to some asylum and tell them to take care of me?" I must admit, I was nervous. Who knew what he would do with me? I was under the impression that since he was a genius, he'd be able to understand. But, as the silence deepened, I wasn't so sure.

"Please, say something." I finally had to beg. "I can't stand the silence." He looked on me with sad eyes. Shaking his head, he stood up and began pacing.

"Believe you?" He mumbled. "Of course I believe you. Your story is too far fetched for it to be made up. And it is also the only logical way to explain you knowing…" He stopped and turned. "So, you've known about the opera house fiasco this whole time haven't you?" I nodded.

"I knew about it, but I didn't realize it was you who had rescued me until the night I snuck upstairs to watch you play. I saw the mask and realized who you were. You're not going to send me away, are you?"

"No, Elizabeth. Where could I send you? It's apparent that you have no true home now except for this one. I wouldn't send you away for anything. I would be rather lonely." He smiled kindly. "But, it's all just rather shocking. I assume this is also part of the reason why you didn't fear the mask." Again, I nodded.

"In the future, there is more of a tolerance for people with deformities. They're not all viewed as monsters. I've also seen some of what you look like thanks to the movie. And Erik, it's not as bad as you think. I've seen worse."

"You may have seen worse faces, my dear, but I doubt you have seen a blacker heart." He sighed and turned to stare out the window. "You are tired, child. Go and rest. You have given me much to think about." I stood and went to the door. I stopped, though. He just seemed so sad; I couldn't bear to leave him.

"Erik." He turned. "I don't fear you. No matter what you may say, you're heart is not as black as it looks. And I…" I stopped, knowing what I wanted to say wasn't right.

"You what, Elizabeth?" The room was full of electric charge. All it would take was for me to say three simple words to cause it to spark and ignite. But, I didn't. The time just wasn't right. At the moment, I didn't think there could have ever been a right time.

"And I want you to know that I've enjoyed the past two years with you. I wouldn't trade them for the world." I left him then to his thoughts. I went to my room and fell asleep despite it being early afternoon.


	17. Chapter 17: Bridging the Gap

Disclaimer: I own nothing save my two characters. But you knew that. So why am I repeating myself?

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to post. I have three papers due for school so I've been working on those. Enjoy this chapter. Next ones are on their way!

Chapter 17: Bridging the Gap

The next few days were spent in interviews with Erik. He'd invite me up to the piano room, play something for me, and then drill me about my past. Or should I say future? It's all so confusing. He wanted to know everything and anything. So, I told him everything. There was no point in hiding anything.

Louise knew something was up. She'd heard Erik shouting at me, but not exactly what he'd said. She was very concerned. I made Erik promise me not to tell her anything about my being from the future.

"Please, Erik. You know as well as I that she would never understand. This concept is way beyond her. I love her like a mother, but she can't know. Please, don't ever tell. You have your secrets; I have mine. I've sworn not to tell yours. Swear not to tell mine!" Needless to say, he agreed. I believe that he knew Louise would not be able to comprehend or take it in. So, she remained blissfully unaware of what Erik now knew.

Erik questioned me most about inventions and music. He was fascinated when I told him about airplanes and men going to the moon. He confided in me that he'd always wanted to go to the moon. He thought it would be a grand adventure. I was disappointed to tell him that he would never live to see it, unless he lived to be over a hundred. I can't say he was too thrilled about that. I told him about electric lights; which were soon to come in a few years. I told him about compact discs and how you could record music on them. I told him about the famous songs and operas and musicals. He was so curious, I only wished I could have taken him there and shown them to him. He would have loved them. Then again, if they weren't perfect, he'd be very disappointed.

Another line of questioning was about my family. I told him everything he wanted to hear, though it was hard on me. I think he knew that so his questioning of that subject was gentle and slow. He was interested to hear about what my life had been like before I showed up in Paris. One day, while discussing my younger brother and his love of music, I asked if he was angry with me.

"Angry? Why should I be angry?" He gave me one of those curious looks. If that mask had been off, I'd swear he raised his eyebrow.

"I don't know." I fiddled with the cup in my hands. "I just thought since I lied to you, you might be angry. I know it's silly. But, I have to make sure. I couldn't stand it if you were angry or disappointed or anything like that." He took the cup away from me and clasped my hands. I could have swooned.

"Elizabeth, I would never be angry at you. You know that. You lied. I've done that more times than I can count. You had a very good reason for not telling the truth. I'm just glad it eventually came out." He smiled and squeezed my hands. "Though, next time, I'll remember not to startle you while you are doing house work. Who knows what other secrets I'd learn?" I laughed.

"That would be a very good thing to do. Who knows what else I might say?" We had a good laugh over that one. He stood up gracefully and pulled me up with him.

"Now, if I could have the honor, I'd like to take you somewhere." Take me somewhere? That didn't sound like the Erik I knew.

"Where?" I was very curious. Though we still went for walks in the park and to his students' houses, he was loath to go anywhere else. If I wanted to go anywhere else, I was forced to take Louise with me because he refused to go. So, for him to want to take me somewhere was a shock.

"You've never seen the outside of Paris and the surrounding country. I think it's time we took a ride out there. You would really enjoy it." I was ecstatic to say the least. I'd always wanted to go outside the city walls and see the country.

Our ride was very enjoyable. We saw farm land and I saw more of the city than I'd ever seen before. I could even see Notre Dame in the distance. I vowed before I died to go see that magnificent cathedral. It was a wonderful day. Through the whole ride, though, we still talked of the future and what life would be like then.

Despite the fact that he now knew that I knew about the whole affair with Christine and Raoul, he still forbid me to talk about it. I think the memories still caused pain and he didn't want someone prying around for the nitty-gritty details. I was careful to respect his wishes. Though, there were quite a few questions I was just dying to ask. Thankfully, I held my tongue.

Life soon returned to normal. Or, as close to normal as it could be with him knowing my secret. Now that he knew, I'd go to him with all my problems with the time period. There weren't many. In the two years I'd been there, I'd adjusted to pretty much everything. Except corsets and dresses. Those were still the most annoying things. Erik always laughed at me when I complained about those things. Though, I still like to think he felt some pity for me.

Nothing else really changed. Our walks through the park were pretty much regulated to every other day. We were both busy with the music lessons. I did most of the paper work and he taught the lessons. Both of the boys progressed beautifully. It was wonderful to hear them play.

I must admit, I was growing nervous with Erik's spreading fame. Neither Countess de Ray nor Jack's mother could keep their mouths shut in praising Erik to their friends. I was worried for I knew they would mention the mask. And if a certain viscount and his wife found out, I was sure bad things would happen. I decided to find out where they were and if it was at all possible for them to hear of Erik.

I never told Erik about my search. I had a sneaking suspicion that he had already looked up the de Chagnys and had made sure they would never hear of him. But, I wanted to reassure myself. After all, the music lessons were my idea.

My search was hard but after a lot of searching, I finally found the information I was looking for. It appeared they had left the country to go to England shortly after the opera fiasco. I was very much relieved. I could breathe easier knowing they weren't around Paris. Of course, that still didn't get rid of the possibility of someone else from the event finding out. I just crossed my fingers and hoped they never did.


	18. Chapter 18: The Quiet Before the Storm

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.

A/N: Please review! I like to see what people think. Hope you enjoy the latest chapter. This is where all the good stuff starts to happen. evil grin

Chapter 18: The Quiet Before the Storm

Many more months flew by, past Thanksgiving and Christmas and New Years and my birthday. We were soon into the spring of 1876 and I was twenty-one. I know I am skipping a lot of time but do you really want to hear about me cleaning and doing domestic things? That's about all that happened during the year 1875. I cleaned house and accompanied Erik to lessons. His fame was growing and he was starting to get uncomfortable. He soon had forbidden Alex's and Jack's parents from inviting friends to the lessons. Erik claimed that if they ever did it again, he would immediately stop the lessons. I knew he wasn't joking. Erik never joked about that kind of thing. Thankfully the parents listened and no more surprise guests ever showed up at the lessons. That was probably the most exciting thing to happen that year, other than my revelation of the future.

Erik had soon gleaned from me everything he needed or wanted to know about the future. Our conversations of the future soon dwindled into just random comments every once in a while. That was fine with me. Thinking about home made me wish for it more. Though Erik believed me, he asked me for some historical events that were to happen in the near future so that he could test whether I was really telling the truth. I wasn't much of a historian on Paris history, but I told him that in 1889 they were going to build the Eiffel Tower and that in 1903 the Wright Brothers would succeed in flying. He nodded and said we'd wait to see what would happen. And so we did. Too bad those events were years away.

Something strange soon began happening as soon as spring made herself known in Paris in the year 1876. Erik started distancing himself from me. He requested that I no longer go with him to the houses of his students for lessons. He all but cancelled our walks in the park together. We had been doing those daily for over two years. I couldn't think of single reason why he would stop going for the walks with me. If that wasn't enough, he became terse, cold, and distant. Dinners suddenly began to consist of sounds of eating instead of the friendly banter we used to engage in. What had I done to earn such treatment? I could think of nothing.

Louise quickly saw what was happening and gave me her own wisdom in the matter. She had been delighted to see Erik and me spending so much time together. She knew it was doing him a world of good. Louise did not want to see our friendship fall apart. I know she meant well and I appreciated it, but I truly wished she hadn't gotten involved. I would much rather have just dealt with it on my own.

Her piece of advice was for me to go and apologize to him. Great. That was an excellent solution. Problem was I didn't know what I had done. But, I decided to see if it would do any good. In one of the rare moments I had with him now, I apologized. He pretty much threw it back in my face, though he did it kindly.

"It's nothing you've done. I've just been a complete fool. So, don't worry your childish head about it." It was all I could do not to retaliate back with some mean comment. I was devastated. My only friend in that world was starting to abandon me. What had I done wrong?

A month went by so slowly that I wondered if I was actually living five years in the course of that month. His treatment did not worsen, but it didn't get any better. I was still regulated to the house and was not permitted to go with him to the lessons. Everyone asked about me, but he just told them that I was becoming to busy to go with him. Office work was taking up my time, he said. That was completely not true. It was all so frustrating.

But, by the end of the month, I began having a sneaking suspicion that there was something else entirely going on. I had an odd feeling that it wasn't me he was mad at or angry with. He had told me he had been a complete fool. So, he was angry with himself and taking it out on me. I tossed several different theories around inside my head. What could possibly be going on inside that genius' head? The one thing I wished it could be I thought could never happen. But, it had. And he was doing everything in his power to fight it.

April of 1876 came on with lots of sunshine and warmer weather. But, like the saying goes, April showers bring May flowers. And so the rain came and came and came. Even if Erik had wanted to, there was no way we could have walked in the park. He had to cancel lessons for a week due to the amount of rain. On April 16th, the biggest storm I'd ever seen hit Paris. We were in for a nasty adventure, and I'm not just talking about the storm…


	19. Chapter 19: The Storm

Disclaimer: Same old thing.

A/N: Fondest greetings to you all. Thank you so much for all the kind reviews and suggestions. You all have given me some ideas for later chapters. Again, thank you so very much. Now, on with the story.

Chapter 19: The Storm

The rain was pounding down hard against the roof. I was cuddled up in the library reading a book by Jane Austen. I believe it was Pride and Prejudice. Erik was upstairs doing whatever he did best when he was alone. He might have been composing for years later he played for me a piece that sounded exactly like the storm that night. Louise had left only one day before the rains hit. Her brother was sick and she needed to go to him. I had developed relatively good cooking skills so I was able to cook small meals meaning the house was managed without her. She had been gone a week when the big storm hit.

I had the blanket wrapped securely around me and I was barefoot. I could never quite get myself to wear shoes indoors. I am one of those people who just have to be barefoot or else I'll go crazy. I was cuddled up on the couch reading the book. Though reading, my mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Erik's strange behavior. I could think of nothing to explain it. And the only logical explanation was impossible. He would never do that again.

But is in it that it's always the obvious thing that eludes us and it's not until afterwards that we see what we should have known all along? Well, that's what was happening. At the moment, though, I was playing dumb. The obvious reason for his sudden behavior, I was ignoring.

Anyway, the sky had grown progressively darker as the day had worn on. When the storm hit, I could have sworn it was midnight because of how dark it was. In actuality, it was only around 7:00. As I sat curled up on the couch, lightening was dancing outside the window and thunder was making me deaf. It was an awful storm.

I jolted up from the couch. I had just heard the sound of the door being slammed open and the sound of glass breaking. Or had that been the thunder and lightening? I couldn't tell. My breath came in and out quickly and my heart sped up. What was more perfect than a break-in in the middle of a storm? I quietly placed the book on the side table and walked to the library door which was partly shut. Being as quiet as I could (that was easy being barefoot); I crept down the hall only to find my worst nightmare come true.

The door had been forced open and the windowpanes next to it broken with some sort of heavy object. The smart thing to do would have been to retreat and take the servant stairs up to the second floor and get Erik. He would have been more suited for fighting robbers. But, I didn't do that for I didn't see any signs that the intruder had actually entered the house. Big mistake.

Careful not the step on the glass, I examined the door frame and windows. The guy must have been big because it looked like he had just bashed the door in. I shook my head. It was probably just some poor drunk guy who had mistaken our house for someone else's house in the attempt to get out of the rain. That would explain the absence of the perpetrator. Oh, well. I was getting ready to turn and get Erik.

I felt the cold steel tip of a gun dig itself into the back of my neck. All my senses went on high alert. What a fool I had been! I should have gotten Erik immediately. Now I was captive to some strange man and who knew what he wanted of me. A voice whispered into my ear.

"You'll not scream and you will cooperate. There is no one to hear you screaming anyway. I'm going to walk you into the parlor and tell you what I want." His breath touched my skin and I felt him place a kiss on the nape of my neck. It was all I could do not to scream. I then realized what he had said. He didn't know Erik was in the house! All I could hope was that my Phantom would do his tricks and rescue me.

The man walked me into the parlor, the gun still digging itself into my neck. I was trembling from my head to my toes. I had a good idea what this man wanted and it just wasn't money. I suddenly wanted to laugh at the irony. Is in this how I spent some of the first few minutes of my stay in Paris? And hadn't Erik rescued me then? I sobered quickly as the man spun me around to face him.

He was the ugliest man I had ever seen. His hair had not been washed in quite a number of days, his teeth were tobacco stained, and his face was poked mark with battle scares. He grinned evilly at me as his hands traveled up and down my arm. I wanted to hit him, and with my karate training I knew I could injure him badly, but he had a gun. I wasn't going to risk my life. At least, not until all hope had failed.

"My, you are beautiful, aren't you? Such pity to let all this beauty go to waste." His hand snaked up through my hair. I felt the blood boil in me. The only person I wanted to do that was Erik. Not some moron with a gun.

"You will take whatever articles you want and then leave me in peace, monsieur." I said through clenched teeth. "This is private property and I will not have you breaking in here and assaulting me." He laughed.

"Are you the queen of England to make such demands? I will do whatever I want." His eyes glowed with an evil light. Faster than I could breathe, he had me shoved up against a wall and his hands started to roam.

A scream worked its way up my throat but stopped when I saw Erik behind the man, a Punjab lasso in his hands. Before I could blink, the lasso settled around the intruder's neck. The chocking sound was horrific. The man tried to undo the lasso but was unsuccessful. He fell to his knees, eyes bulging, and collapsed onto the floor. His body shook violently. When it was all over, Erik dropped the rope and raced over to me, being careful to avoid the body.

"Are you okay? Elizabeth, answer me. Are you okay?" His voice was so full of concern and worry. His eyes betrayed how scared he had been. I lost all power of speech. I clutched him, sobbing. I had not felt the fear of my situation until now. Erik wrapped his arms around me and held me.

"It's okay. It's okay." He whispered softly, his hand stroking my head gently. "You're all right. Breathe, dear. Just breathe." I drew in great gasps of air before breaking down again. He rested his head on mine. I could feel the mask pressing into my hair. It was a weird feeling, knowing the man holding me was hiding from me. Suddenly, I realized I wanted nothing more than to strip the mask off and see what lay beneath it. I didn't deserve for him to hide himself from me. It was time this "horror" was revealed and dealt with.

I reached up to grab the mask. It was time I saw the deformity for real. Before I could touch the mask, however, he sprang back, eyes wide in anger. His hands tightened into fists. I made another grab for the mask. He caught me and flung me into the wall.

"You damn girl!" He bellowed. His hand snapped out and struck me across the jaw. Pain shot up my face. It was the first and only time he ever hit me. I turned and fled.


	20. Chapter 20: Voyage to America

Disclaimer: Please don't sue. I know the Phantom of the Opera characters are not mine!

A/N: Sorry it has been forever since I have updated. I've been bogged down with three school papers. I'm sure you all know how it is. Because of that, I may be only to update once a week. I hope you understand. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews. Enjoy this chapter! - Alia G.L.

Chapter 20: Voyage to America

I boarded a ship bound for America the next day. Many of you will find it shocking that I was able to find passage on a ship so quickly. Usually you have to book months in advance for a passage across the seas. I was relatively shocked myself. But, Providence was with me and I was able to find a place on a ship. I don't know what I would have done if I couldn't have left Paris.

You are probably wondering what happened after Erik hit me. Well, I ran into my room, grabbed a carpet bag, and packed as many of my belongings as I could into it. Slipping out the broken door, I fled into the night. I do not know where Erik was at the time. He might have gone back upstairs or he may have been out in the night walking his anger off. Either way, he did not hinder me leaving.

I wandered around Paris most of that night, avoiding the drunks, prostitutes, and thugs. I did a relatively good job at that, though, since most people would not have ventured out into the storm. It was really terrible. I hid in doorways as often as I could and tied my cloak around me tightly. I was soon drenched. I'm lucky I didn't catch a cold. It did not help that I was tired. I soon was half sleep walking, trying to keep my body awake.

At dawn, I came upon a small pawn shop and sold the sapphire bracelet. The man who bought it was shocked at the quality of the jewels and gave me more money than I knew what to do with. I'm afraid I rather confused the poor man who had no idea how a valuable bracelet fell into the hands of a woman who looked like a drowned rat. Thankfully, he asked no questions.

I used most of that money to bribe the captain of the ship _Nightingale_ to let me travel in the third class section. He agreed after I handed him the money, which was a fairly large sum. It seemed that he had a few vacant spots opened and was looking for more paying customers. It was also my luck that the ship was traveling to Virginia, my future home, after making a few stops down river.

I still can't remember much of the voyage or how long it took to get to my "future" home. I was in such a state of depression that days flew by without me noticing anything. Even my somewhat rowdy roommates could not induce me to smile or stir far past the room. I only went out for meals and a fresh breath of air every once in a while. My every thought was on Erik.

My jaw hurt for a very long time. I got comments about the bruise he had left and rumors in the third class section abounded. I could care less. The most prominent one was that I was fleeing an abusive husband on short notice. I wanted to laugh. Husband? Hardly. Just some psycho who had rescued me and who I had fancied myself in love with.

Every mile from Paris increased my despair and depression. What had happened to turn him so against me? The obvious answer I still did not believe. Guilt weighed heavily on my heart. I knew I should never have touched the mask. It was something that had happened in the heat of the moment. I had been a fool. I deserved to be on that ship heading away from all that was familiar.

Only one event stood out on that voyage to America. Only one that I actually remembered, though in the long run it wasn't important. The captain, about two weeks into the trip, called me into his cabin. Now, this was rarely heard of since I was a third class passenger. Let's say I was very much respected in the third class after that and my roommates ceased to ask questions. They had been drilling into me since I had boarded and I had done my best to ignore them.

The captain, a Mr. Drafe, was not a cruel hearted man, despite being able to be bought over with money. He was kind hearted and had seen instantly that I was in some kind of trouble. The bruise on my jaw proved it. He called me into the cabin and proceeded to ask me questions. I just sat there like the dumb animal I was slowly becoming. I in no way wanted to answer anything he asked. I eventually interrupted him.

"Monsieur, I thank you very much for your kindest in letting me board so late. I know it was an inconvenience." He shook his head, but I didn't let him speak. All I wanted was to get back down to my room and sleep the evil thoughts away. "But, please, do not ask me any questions. There is nothing I can say as to my appearance, the bruise, and what has happened in the past. The money was come by honestly, you have my word. Please, just let me go back to my room."

I must really have look pitiful, because he nodded and told me to go. I hurried out and back down into my room. I never saw the captain again. I remained in my room for the rest of the voyage, save for my meals. I no longer went for walks on the deck. I was slowly slipping into a despair none could pull me out of.

We landed in Virginia probably four weeks after our departure from France. I'm still not sure about the date though because I was relatively in shock throughout the whole thing (as I'm sure you all have noticed). Virginia was still recovering to some extent from the Civil War and the city had a rundown feel to it. I found, to my great surprise, that I could not understand the English language. This time travel thing must have really messed with my brain.

I ended up getting a recommendation from one of the stewards as to where to board. It was a quiet little place along the water. The landlord, who spoke some rudimentary French, happened to have one vacant room and giving him half of my remaining money, he allowed me to live in the room. For some odd reason, no one asked questions as to why a twenty-one year old French girl was all alone. Maybe it's just the American way.

When asked questions, I replied that I was on a vacation and that I would be staying a few months in their town. Everyone bought this and left me alone. Though, I still got my fair shares of stares as I wandered around town. Most people were friendly, however, and I was able to communicate rather well after a while. All my old English was coming back.

I found the most consoling thing for my spirit, which was still in agony, was to take long walks on the beach. I would just pace for hours, staring at the waters. Sometimes dolphins would swim by and I would watch them, feeling some of the joy of my previous life come back to me. While still living in the 21st century, I had loved dolphins. They were so free and beautiful. I wanted to join them in the water and never see mankind again.

My every thought still rested on Erik. Oh, Lord, I loved him. Even I couldn't escape it by traveling to a new world. My heart just seemed to call to him no matter how much I tried to shut it off. For I knew, or thought I knew, that he would never love me in return. He was probably sitting at home, happy to be rid of the little time traveler who had unraveled his normal life.

Two months in America went by. My money ran out, very quickly, if I must say so. I was soon helping the landlord by being maid, waitress, and cook all rolled into one. My days of helping Louise around the house had served me well. I was still a walking dead, though. My body was there but my mind wasn't. My mind was thousands of miles across the sea, in Erik's house.


	21. Chapter 21: Love for the Broken Hearts

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please don't sue me.

A/N: I'm sorry if the last chapter seemed a little jumpy. I was having a hard time figuring out what I wanted to say. Hopefully this one will be better. Please enjoy and keep on reviewing!

Chapter 21: Love for the Broken Hearts

He found me a month later. I never expected him to come after me. I knew he had every right to be angry. The one thing he asked of me was that I never touch the mask or try to take it off. And I had tried. I knew I deserved the exile I was in. But, he came after me anyway.

I'd been in America for three months, making it about the end of July. It was hot and humid and I was busy playing waitress and cook at the little boarding house where I lived. I had felt bad asking for a job, but it seemed the landlord needed a cook because his previous one had just moved home to New York. So, I was hired. Thankfully my cooking skills had improved over the last two years. They improved even more as I got used to cooking for large groups of people.

As I was saying, I was busy playing waitress. There were about twenty men in the dinning room, most of them there to take a look at the Civil War damage. I had my back turned toward the door, but I heard it open.

"Be there in one second." I said over my shoulder as I handed one man a bowl of soup and another man a plate full of fish. They were laughing and one of them playfully reach out and swatted me. I just glared and moved on. Men were always doing stuff like that and I was getting used to it, unfortunately.

I turned to ask what I could get for the newcomer. I dropped the tray I was holding, sending two plates spinning across the room. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at me. I did a double take. Nothing. There was nothing there. I could have sworn I saw Erik standing before me, but he was gone.

"Are you okay, Elizabeth?" Mr. King, the landlord, called to me from the kitchen. "You look like you just saw a ghost." I told him I was fine. My imagination was just playing tricks on me, I told myself. Erik would never come for me. I glanced around trying to see who had walked in the door. I saw no one. Sighing, I realized it must have been the wind.

The rest of the day went by without incident. I was exhausted when I finally made it to my bed in the attic of the house. It wasn't the best room, getting rather hot at night, but it had an astonishing view of the ocean. Tonight, though, I was too tired to stare out my window. I collapsed into bed and fell asleep.

What awoke me, I will never know. All I do know is that once I woke up, I heard a voice singing. It was the most wonderful voice; it seemed to be beckoning me outside and I knew I had to follow it. I threw on my old cloak and crept out of the house. The voice surrounded me and I couldn't tell where it was coming from. Later, after reviewing the events, I realized a shadow had followed me the whole time. Erik had been in my room, singing to me, and now he was leading me somewhere private.

I wandered down to the beach. His voice led me across the sand of the beach and into a clump of trees on the edge. By now, he had somehow gotten around me and was in front, within the trees. I stumbled through the underbrush, which snagged on my dress, and came upon a small glade.

The spell his voice put over me was broken as soon as he stopped singing. He stood there before me, the cloak I had gotten him for one Christmas swirling around his ankles. I about collapsed. He was as handsome as he was the day I ran away. My heart almost stopped. I was still in love with him and I could no longer deny it to myself. We stared at each other for several seconds before either of us spoke. He broke the silence.

"Why did you leave?" He whispered, looking at me. I cringed under his stare, made worse by the mask, and felt one inch tall. I had left for no real reason and he knew it.

"I was scared." I defended lamely. His shoulders slumped and I wanted to kick myself. Every person in this world was afraid of him, of his deformity. I'd always claimed not to be one of them.

"I do not blame you. There is much you should fear in me. If you are happy here, I'll leave." He turned to disappear through the trees. I rushed toward him and grabbed his arm.

"No, don't leave. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know I was wrong. I know I should never have left. And I should never have tried to touch the mask. Forgive me. I left because I was ashamed. I…" I choked on my tears. "I broke your trust. It was the one thing you asked of me and I tried to do it. Oh, I am so sorry. Forgive me. Please, forgive me."

I broke down for the second time in three months. I just sobbed. Erik stood there and watched me. I don't know if he felt uncomfortable or if he thought if he held me I would become angry. Either way, I cried with only myself for comfort. When I finally stopped, I looked up to see tears falling down Erik's cheek. Gently, I reached up to wipe them away. He stiffened, not surprisingly, but once he saw my mission, he relaxed.

"Please, don't cry. You have no reason to cry. You haven't done anything wrong." I pleaded, knowing his crying would only make me cry harder. He clasped my wrist in his hand and held it against his face. His other hand reached out to trace the fading lines of the bruise.

"Haven't I?" He sighed, his hand following the curvature of my jaw. "I was angry. You are right, though, you should never have touched the mask. But that doesn't give me the right to hit you. Nothing will ever give me the right to hit you. It's you who must forgive me." Tears pooled in his eyes again and his hands dropped, releasing both my jaw and other hand.

"Erik, I've already forgiven you. You did nothing to be upset about. My jaw wasn't broken. It's me who has reason to beg pardon. I was the one who did the unthinkable. Will you forgive me?" That was the second time I'd had to ask for his forgiveness. Was I always to be domed to do the wrong thing in his presence? Thankfully not, but I did not know that.

"Yes, Elizabeth, I forgive you. You were frightened and carried away by your emotions. I don't blame you, only the circumstances. Elizabeth…" He stopped and turned to face the sea, a distant blue outline through the trees. All the night bugs seemed to have stopped their chirping and singing, as if in suspense. Wind whipped through the trees causing them to bend and sway. A wave crashed onto the shore, sending a group of sea gulls scurrying toward the moon. Suddenly revealed from behind a cloud, she shone silver light into the glade.

"What is it, Erik?" I questioned. My heart was in my throat and I could feel the familiar pressure of my chest tightening in nervousness. What was happening around me? The world was waiting. But waiting for what? He turned toward me, the moon highlighting the mask and bathing the dark figure in moonlight. He might have been some fairy prince come from the land of fairies to carry me off. A breath of wind caught his hair and made it dance.

"Elizabeth, I'm a composer of the most beautiful music. I'm a genius in all sense of the word. Even you come when I call with no questions." I blushed. "And yet, what I want to say I cannot say. The words stick in my throat like honey eaten too fast without a drink." He laughed dryly. "Tell me, what am I to do? The moon gives her consent to this night. Why is it that I hesitate and can't seem to find the right words?" I was utterly confused. I had no idea what he was talking about. My nerves were becoming tighter and tighter with each passing second. What was it that he wanted to tell me?

"I see I am confusing you. I'm sorry." He apologized. "I can't believe this is happening. I thought never to feel this again. But, here you are. Nothing like her and yet so much the same." His eyes turned tender and he stepped toward me. "Elizabeth, I'm in love with you." I felt all color drain from my face and my heart stop. He loved me? Impossible, right? I looked down at the ground trying to comprehend what he had just told me.

"You love me? I thought… I thought you would never love anyone after Christine." He shook his head.

"I thought so as well. But, here I am again laying my heart on the threshing floor, waiting for it to be torn apart again. But, I can no longer deny it. I'm in love with you. Before you say anything or tell me that which might send me to the grave, let me say this. I am still in love with Christine. My love for her is like a raging river which consumes all and will never go away. What I feel for you is different. It's like the ocean yonder. Calm and steady with only the barest of ripples. Elizabeth, can you in some way love me back?" Looking into his eyes, I knew he expected me to say no. His other love had rejected him. Why should I be any different?

I was different, however. It did not matter to me that he still loved Christine. I knew he would always love her. There are some loves that last a life time though they are never meant to be. I felt for him what he felt for Christine. I hesitated one moment before confessing.

"Erik, I love you. I've always loved you. From the moment I heard you play that night I've been hopelessly in love with you. I never thought you could feel the same way." His eyes seemed to brighten with what must have been relief. "I've always wanted to tell you, but I didn't know how you would take it."

"It was probably best you didn't tell me. I would most likely have yelled at you and then forbidden you to stay in the house." A mischievous light gleamed in his eyes. I think he was just joking about the forbidding me to stay part. But, I'm still not quite sure. "Are you sure you love me, Elizabeth? I am not the easiest person to love nor would I believe one such as you could love me."

"I do love you, Erik, more than anything. And I always will." We stepped toward each other and soon found we were locked in an embrace. Who initiated it, I will never know. We stood there, under the canopy of the moon and trees, as the wind swirled around. He drew back and traced his gloved fingers across my face. I stood there enjoying the moment. Who would ever have thought I'd find love in the 19th century?

"You are beautiful, Elizabeth." He whispered, voice a husky low. "You're like the moon, radiate and graceful. I'm so hopelessly in love with you." His next words were rather rash, but I suppose the moment kind of carried us both across the threshold of sensibility. "Ask me for anything, and it will be yours. I would give you the world if I could." I thought for a second about the question. I knew what I wanted. How would he react this time, though?

"Only one thing I want from you, besides your love. The mask is a hindrance. Please, let me see who you really are. You have nothing to fear. I love you. Love conquers all." He stiffened. I knew he didn't believe me. If love conquered all, he'd be with Christine rather than me.

"You don't know what you ask for. Why do you wish to break my heart? I promised you anything, no matter how painful. Do as you please." I slowly reached up and traced the edge of the mask. It shone in the brilliance of the moonlight. I slipped my fingers under the edge and lifted up gently. I could feel his body becoming tenser as I removed the mask. Holding the mask in on hand, I looked into the face many loathed.

Fear? No, a sort of disquiet feeling as I looked into the face I had seen so many times on a television screen. It soon passed as I saw that what I had found handsome about him was made more so by the deformity. It was not hideous. I touched his face with my hand. He was not ugly. And I was in love with him even more.

I timidly wrapped my arms around his neck, not knowing how he'd react. Erik wrapped his arms around my waist and pressed me to him. Doing my best to stand on tiptoe (it's hard when someone is holding you), I whispered into his ear.

"You're the most handsome man I have ever met. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I love you." As I slid back to my feet, he pressed his lips onto mine. The sensations were like nothing I'd ever felt before. I was carried to the edge of the universe and back. As our kiss deepened, the animals of the forest broke out into their usually chirpings and singing.


	22. Chapter 22: Courtship

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters on the subject. Thank you.

A/N: It's getting close to that time of year: final exams. Ugh. I am not looking forward to that. Due to it, however, the production of this story will be slow. I have no idea when I will be able to post, so please bear with me. I have a bunch of ideas, just not enough time to put them on paper. I hopefully will still post one chapter a week, but I guarantee nothing. So, enjoy this chapter! Next stop: the wedding!

Chapter 22: Courtship

I could just say the story ends here and relieve myself of the somewhat painful recollection of all that happened in the 19th century. I could just say we were married and lived happily ever after. That wasn't the complete case, however, and I'd hate to disappoint so many kind readers.

We returned to Paris soon after our moonlight meeting. Mr. King was disappointed to loose such a good cook, but Erik paid him well for my staying there. I dare say that Mr. King could have then hired ten cooks with the money Erik gave him. Our return journey was uneventful. We stayed pretty much in our own cabins and did not leave them. Erik did not want attention due to the mask. I just wanted to learn to deal with all the new emotions churning around inside. Needless to say, room service is an excellent thing.

Louise was happy to see me back. She had been greatly confused when she came back from her brother's house and found me gone. I must say, I believe it was due in part to her urging that Erik went after me in the first place. Louise greeted us as we stepped off the ship with hugs and exclamations of, "It's so good to have you back, Elizabeth." She wasn't sure what had driven me away, but she was glad to see Erik and I back on friendly terms.

We didn't get engaged right away. Neither of us was ready to rush into it. We wanted to cultivate our friendship some more, a step most people would call courtship. Erik also did not feel like he deserved to marry me after all that had happened. Guilt from the past hindered him from rushing into anything. So, we waited a year, one very long year. Things went almost back to normal. Erik resumed teaching his lessons, with me accompanying him. I continued helping around the house and doing book work. Our walks in the park resumed.

Things were not the same, though. When Erik and I were alone, he'd take the mask off. Now that he knew I wouldn't be afraid of his deformity or hate him because of it, he was more comfortable. He was still somewhat shy of it, however, and made every effort to keep the right side of his face turned away from me. I wished he wouldn't do that, but there was no arguing with him.

Among other things which changed between us was that he no longer just played music for me. He would also sing for me, something he had done before, but not very often. Oh, the feelings that would wash over me. All other music now pales in comparison. Erik was a genius in his voice. The way he could make it sound was absolutely amazing. How can I describe a masterpiece? It's impossible. I was still forbidden to sing, but he now needed a creative outlet for his singing. I was more than happy to oblige. I could have just sat there for hours listening to him.

Erik soon found that all girls are the same in one way: we like little tokens of a guy's love. Christine had her flowers with black ribbons; I sort of wanted something special, though I never truly said anything. I may have dropped tiny hints here and there but I never directly came out and said it. But, Erik, being the genius that he was, picked up on that little wish. I was soon waking up to have a new book, a vase of flowers, or some other little trinket lying on my bedside table. He was so sweet. In a way, he was very childlike- always wanting to please and trying not to repeat the mistakes of the past. Christine and Raoul still haunted him.

About a week after we arrived in Paris, Erik surprised me. I was chopping up vegetables in the kitchen when he came in and hurried me upstairs. He was like a child at Christmas, face a light and a smile playing on his lips. I wondered what was up. He wasn't one to get happy for no reason.

"I have something for you." He said with a smile, as he led me into the piano room. A small box was sitting on the piano. No, it was not a ring box, being too long in width for it. It was more of a box used to house a necklace or a bracelet.

"What is it?" I asked in eager anticipation. Erik always gave good surprises. He handed me the box. I opened it. Sitting in a seat of dark blue velvet was the sapphire bracelet I had pawned off for money. The sapphires sparkled with the light shining in through the windows. I took it out and held it up in the light.

"Oh, Erik. Where did you find it? I was upset when I had to sell it, but there was no other option. Oh, thank you. Thank you." I gave him a hug before planting a kiss on his cheek. He laughed and hugged me back.

"You're welcome. I can't say how I found it. I just did. I knew you would have to sell it to gain passage on a ship, so I kept my eye out for it. But, I'm glad you're happy to have it back." He took the bracelet out of my hand and slipped it onto my wrist. I wore that bracelet the whole rest of the day, despite having kitchen duty. The bracelet was special to me and I had been sad to part with it.

As the days lengthened and winter came upon us, Erik and I found ourselves spending more time in the piano room talking than anything else. We shared our greatest hopes, dreams, and fears with each other during those long winter nights, as we sat by the fireplace. I learned a great deal about him that the movie and book had only hinted at. He told me about his long confinement by the gypsies (we both shed many a tear over that) and that he barely remembered his mother. He had run away from home at the tender age of six. I felt such sorrow over all that had befallen him. Erik in all since of the word was a tragic hero.

I tried not to probe too deeply, but I was so curious. I asked him about his life inside the opera house. Erik told me it had been interesting, growing up listening to solely music. Actually, he told me, the idea for him becoming the Phantom had come from some opera. I thought that was interesting. He also told me that the night of the disaster with Christine and Raoul; he had escaped the clutches of the crowd via the mirror. Apparently, there had been another subterranean passage behind the mirror, leading to a street. He had followed it out, went to the bank to collect some of the money he had stored away, and left to rid himself of his demons.

Erik told me he had traveled far and wide in an effort to escape the ghosts pursuing him. His wanderings took him to Rome, China, London, and even America. I was shocked. I had never expected him to travel at all due to the mask. He was always people-shy. Erik said he came back home to Paris a year later, bought a house, hired Louise, and the rest I already knew.

Christmas came on fast. I could never believe how time just flew by that fall and winter. Five months was turned into five weeks to me. Erik again gave Alex and Jack gifts and a two week break. They were very excited, but promised to continue to practice. They both were becoming excellent musicians under Erik's gentle hand. Christmas brought about another sweet surprise for me.

I was making some hot chocolate (or the 19th century's equivalent) on Christmas Eve in the kitchen for us, Louise having to run out to get some sort of stuffing, when Erik strode in. His eyes were smiling and I could tell he was excited about something but trying not to show it.

"Can I help you?" I said in my best French accent, looking up from where I was stirring the chocolate. Both his hands were behind his back so I was immediately suspicious.

"Yes, you can, my dear. I have a little something for you and I wanted to give it to you before Louise gets back with the Christmas dinner or whatever it is she is after." I wiped my hands on a towel and walked over to him. I playfully tried to reach whatever was behind his back.

"Well, what is it?" He smiled mischievously as he dodged my attempt at discovering the surprise. "Come now, Erik. You know I hate surprises. What is this all about?" His face sobered quickly, but his eyes were still dancing. I crossed my arms in mock annoyance.

My posture changed the minute he knelt in front of me and produced a small ring box from behind his back. Did I scream? No, but I wanted to. Not from horror, but from delight. Erik looked very unsure as he knelt there and opened the box. The ring was gorgeous. A small diamond surrounded by sapphires on a band of gold. It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw and it probably cost him a fortune.

"I hope I'm doing this right." He said nervously. I felt sort of bad for him, but I wasn't going to help. I just stood there waiting for him to ask the question I knew must be coming. "Louise told me… never mind. Elizabeth, I love you. I love you more than anything. Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?" I was struck speechless as he looked anxiously at me. Seconds ticked by. I finally found my voice.

"Erik, yes. Yes! It would be my pleasure." He laughed happily as he slipped the ring onto my finger. Standing up, he pressed me into him and swung me around. I laughed joyfully. As he set me down, our lips met. Life was good.


	23. Chapter 23: Here Comes the Bride

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapter. Thank you.

A/N: We're coming to the best part of the story. I hope you all like it. There's probably between five and ten more chapter left. Yeah, I know that's a lot. But, don't you want to know what happens during their forty or so married years and what happens after Christine dies? I know I do. Again, thank you so much for all the kind reviews. Enjoy!

One more thing… sorry it took two weeks to post this. I have finals and studying is at the moment more important. Do not expect anymore updates until after the 15th. I am sorry. Enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 23: Here Comes the Bride

Louise was ecstatic as soon as we told her the good news. She smiled and immediately began planning the wedding. We just laughed at her. Apparently, she'd been playing matchmaker all this time and was happy to see that everything had turned out exactly the way she had planned it, with Erik and I together.

There was so much to plan! We opted to get married in June, like so many star-crossed lovers, and were busy for the next six months planning. We got a hold of a priest to do the ceremony and were given leave to use the church. Louise and I went out dress shopping, which was so much fun. We must have spent days looking for a dress. I finally found the perfect one. It was a medieval- like dress that was absolutely gorgeous. I think Erik was confused as to what made dress shopping appealing to two women. Louise and I just laughed at him.

When it came to invites, there weren't many. Our only guests would be Louise, Alex's family, and Jack's family. Neither Erik nor I had many friends and neither of us wanted to involve the public with the wedding. Can you imagine what would happen if the De Chagnys showed up? It would be a complete nightmare. So, it was to be a small, private ceremony for us. On a side note, in Alex's and Jack's families, both boys were not only children. Alex had four siblings and Jack had two. So, our wedding guests consisted mainly of children, which was perfectly all right with us.

We faked my birth certificate since I didn't have one; it being somewhere in the 21st century. It wasn't too difficult to do, but I felt bad. I hate lying to the government, but what were we to do? Tell them I was from the future? Not likely, so we did the next best thing. Much to my shock, it worked and I was declared a "fine, upstanding French citizen". If only they knew.

Our wedding took place on the 21st of June. The date has special significance, but I won't get into that. Let's just say it has something to do with my previous life in the "future". The day dawned bright and beautiful, with not a rain cloud in sight. Perfect for a wedding. Louise accompanied me to the church in the carriage, Erik already being there. The church was lovely, with the typical stained class windows of the churches of that time. The priest stood at the front with Erik, who was dressed in a black suit with a matching cape and the mask.

Jack, Alex, and their families occupied the first two rows of pews. The rest of the church was empty. I stood behind a great wooden door as Louise straightened my train. I was a ball of nerves. I couldn't believe I was doing this. I had never thought of marriage yet here I was, soon to be married. I looked at Louise nervously. She smiled and patted my shoulder.

"Pre-wedding jitters, dear. You'll get over them. Just put one foot in front of the other and soon you'll be living in a fairy tale." She opened the door and hurried inside before shutting it. For some reason, her words brought into my memory a Christmas movie I used to watch as a child. The thought relaxed me and at the sound of the music I entered, almost perfectly calm. Almost.

I think Erik was shocked. He had seen Christine in a wedding dress, but it had been slightly old and yellowed. My dress was the purest of white and seemed to shine with the colors of the stain glass. My head piece was a simple silver chain that encircled my head. I did not care for a veil. I felt like a princess. When I reached the altar, Erik took my hand and smiled. I smiled shyly back and we walked up the steps together.

I won't bore you with the details of the ceremony. I am sure you have been to countless weddings. To me, it took less than a minute, but it actually took more than an hour. The priest's voice rose and fell as he recited the vows. Erik and I both repeated after him and slipped rings onto each other's fingers. I smiled when I saw Alex squirm in his seat. Poor children, I thought. They must be bored. Either that or they were thinking of the fine meal that was going to occur afterwards. I noticed Erik's smirk and I realized he had seen Alex, too. We exchanged a secret glance. It was almost over.

When it came time for Erik to kiss the bride, we were both at a slight loss. How do you kiss someone while wearing a mask that comes almost to your lips? I must say, if someone had video-taped it, the kiss would have looked extremely funny. I had to tilt my head at such an angle that it was almost vertical. But, we managed and we walked down the aisle as man and wife, with the cheers of our friends making us smile.

Our reception (if you can call it that) was at the house. Louise outdid herself. There were French delicacies that I couldn't even begin to pronounce or tell you the name of (I think one was something snail). There was the famous French wine, which I did not partake of. I still could not stand the taste of wine, no matter how much Erik tried to coax me to drink some. Louise had also constructed a terrace cake. It was beautiful and oh, so tempting. I toyed around with the idea for a while and finally decided it was worthless to resist. So, I gave in.

It was half-way through the reception when this happened. I hit a silver spoon against my glass, announcing that I had something to say. Everyone, minus one or two of the kids, gathered around me. I was standing next to the cake and Erik was on the other side of me, beaming like any new groom should.

"I'd like to thank you all for coming to our wedding. Erik and I really appreciate you taking the time out to enjoy this very special day with us." A few cheers went through the room, mostly from the young folk. "I hope you all are enjoying the food cooked exceptionally by Louise." Another chorus of cheers from the kids and nodding heads from the adults. Louise just blushed. "Where I come from, there's a tradition that the groom and bride feed each other a piece of cake. I think this is a tradition I'd like to implement right now." There was some nodding of heads by the adults and a few "That's an interesting tradition. I think I like it" floating around. If only they knew what I was going to do. That cake was just too much of a temptation.

Louise handed over two small plates and Erik and I each cut a tiny sliver of cake. We picked up the tiny pieces and got ready to feed it to each other. I don't know what alerted me to it first: whether it was the smirk in his eyes or the fact that the cake piece wasn't quite heading for my mouth. Next thing I know, I had cake all over the side of my face. I can't say Erik fared much better. I smeared my piece all along the bottom of his jaw and I dabbed a small dot of frosting on his cheek. We were both laughing and the rest of the room with us. After cleaning ourselves up, the rest of the reception went off without a hitch.

I think Erik was anxious to make everyone leave because as soon as the clock struck 8:00, he shooed everyone away: including Louise. She was going to visit some friends in the near-by country side. As soon as everyone was gone, Erik swept me off my feet and carried me upstairs to his bedroom.

I'd never been in there before so at first I was more interesting in the room than him. It was a gloomy room (I soon fixed that) with gray painted walls. The only furniture was a bed (thankfully not a coffin) and a dresser which held his clothes, I presumed. Around the room was one or two pictures hanging on the walls which he had drawn. I won't describe them to you. They contained scenes of agony and pain and broken hearts. They were his way of expressing himself to the world. I turned because I could not bear to look at them. A side door lead to either a bathroom or a closet. That was as far as I got in my observations.

I won't go into detail as to what happened after he pulled me into a kiss. All I'll say was that it was magical. I never did find out, being scared to ask, whether or not Erik was a virgin on our wedding night. But, what did it matter? From then on, we each only had eyes for the other. What more could I have wanted?


	24. Chapter 24: To Cherish

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters. I'm sure you know I don't own anything.

A/N: Well, I am back! Aren't you excited? I am. It's the final stretch of the story. It'll soon all be over. Thank you all so very much for the nice reviews and comments. On to chapter twenty-four.

Chapter 24: To Cherish All the Days of My Life

My first duty as a wife was to please my husband. My second was to clean up his room. No, I do not mean picking up his dirty clothes and having to make the bed. Erik was good about those sorts of things. I never once found a piece of dirty laundry on the floor. It must have come from him living alone for so long. What I am referring to is the room itself. It was too gray and disturbing for me. Erik just grunted when I asked if I could paint the walls a cream white.

"Do as you please. It's now your room, too." And back he went to playing the piano. I loved him, but sometimes he could be impossible. I watched his fingers glide effortlessly across the keys. There were still times when he would get so caught up in his music and forget the normal world. I bent down and planted a kiss on his cheek.

"Don't forget to come down to supper." I reminded him and off I went. Louise and I spent a little over two weeks painting and redecorating the room. His pictures were the work of genius. But, I broke down into tears whenever I looked at them. They were that moving. So, we moved them to a different room of the house where I wouldn't see them. I begged Erik to paint me something else to put on my walls. Anything. He smiled and said he would. I was overjoyed.

A week after the last coat of paint dried, Erik presented me with a picture of the ocean. I had told him that I had dreamed of studying whales out in the ocean, but that it would never happen now that I was stuck in the 19th century. The picture was of waves crashing on the shore with a pod of dolphins frolicking in the background. I got lost in the painting; it was so real. Erik was bombarded with kisses from me. I can't say he minded.

Oh, what about the honeymoon? We traveled for two weeks, seeing some sights and enjoying each other's company. We didn't go too far from Paris because Erik needed to get back to teaching. Hey, we needed the money. Our trip was pleasant, though. I liked it so much that I convinced Erik to go for a week romp in the country every anniversary. Well, almost every anniversary. As he got older, he became more attached to his music and was loath to go anywhere.

After we arrived back home from our honeymoon, I convinced Erik that we needed a photograph of us. He put up a fight. Number one: he was wearing a mask. Number two: why did I need a picture when I had the real thing living with me? Number three: he didn't do pictures. Need I tell you that he lost the battle? I practically had to drag him. The photograph was terrible by modern standards, but by 1870's standards, it was pretty good. I kept the picture on the downstairs mantel piece.

Forgive me for the leaps in time. What could possibly be interesting about a person's forty-odd years of marriage? Unfortunately, not much. Our first few years were full of mistakes and blunders and discoveries. I learned that Erik's feet were the coldest things in the universe. Trust me. They were. He was admonished that he could sleep in the same bed with me as long as he kept his feet on the far side. Did he ever listen? No. Men; you've got to love them.

There was only one really serious incident in the bedroom. We'd been married for about two years. Now, Erik always slept without the mask. At first, he was reluctant to sleep without it for he thought he'd scare me in the middle of night. I disagreed and the mask stayed off (it was also easier to kiss him without it on). Well, this one night was different. I had a nightmare of ghosts chasing me. It was horrible. I woke up in a cold sweat and the first thing I saw was the right side of his face.

I screamed like there was no tomorrow. I don't know why I was so frightened. My rational brain was saying, "It's your husband, silly. Why are you screaming?" My irrational side was screaming, "Remember the ghosts? It's one of them." Obviously, I listened to that irrational side.

Erik was up in a flash. He clamped his hand over my mouth and tried to quiet me. I struggled for a good minute before my rational side took over. I cried and cried. Erik comforted me by holding me close and stroking my hair. I finally found my voice as I dried my tears.

"I'm sorry. It was a nightmare." I said sheepishly. I didn't dare look at him. I was afraid he'd look heartbroken; thinking he had scared me somehow. Well, he had, but he didn't need to know it.

"It's okay. I know. I know. It must have been awful. Rest now, love." I curled up next to him and fell back asleep. And I knew he knew I'd screamed because of his face. We never mentioned it to each other again and it was the last time it ever happened.

"Will you tell me about the ring?" I asked one day while we were in the piano room. Erik was playing a sonnet of some kind and I was listening while mending a shirt (Louise had recently taught me how to sew). From where I sat, I could see the slight glitter of the diamonds in the ring.

"What ring?" He asked innocently, continuing with his playing. I laughed. He was avoiding the question, for good reasons, I am sure. But, I wanted to know the full truth about the ring. He wasn't getting off that easily.

"You know perfectly well what ring. The one you wear on a chain around your neck. I saw you put it in your drawer last night. It is beautiful. Where did you get it?" You all are probably laughing at me. I should know where he got the ring from: it was Christine's engagement ring. For some unknown reason, the girl in me wanted him to tell me the truth for himself.

"Why don't you tell me where the ring came from? You already know practically everything about my past." He glanced sideways at me, his eye highlighted by the mask. "You tell me, Elizabeth." I sighed.

"I know Christine gave it to you before she left with Raoul. That's about it. Why do you where it? Why not put it somewhere safe? People will think it weird if they saw you wearing it." Erik laughed.

"My dear, people already think me weird due to the mask. I doubt my wearing the ring will have that much impact on their minds." He watched me for a few seconds, as I defiantly continued my sewing. I was not about to back down. "Oh, all right." He shook his head. "You're too stubborn for your own good."

"Well, so are you." I retorted.

"Point taken, love. Now, about the ring. Yes, you're right. Christine gave it to me before she went off with Raoul. And I don't know why I wear it." Erik stopped playing and was lost in thought. "I think it's because it is the only connection I have to her. So the ring is special. Does that help answer your question?"

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate it. You know how curious I am." His look told me he knew all too well how curious I was. "Is in it time we headed over to Jack's house for lessons?" He nodded, shut the piano cover, and we were off to lessons.

Our music business prospered for a few more years after our marriage. Erik taught Alex and Jack for another six years, until they headed off to college. By then, their talent at playing the piano was quite evident. They both played at parties and balls around the city. Erik and I were so proud of them. Jack went on to become one of the more famous French concert artists. He excelled at everything he put his hand to and Erik and I found ourselves attending a number of his concerts. At one point, he wanted to bring Erik up and honor him. Erik refused. Jack was confused but honored his teacher's wishes. We never told either of them about the Phantom of the Opera.

What became of Alex? He did rather well at college and came home with an excellent business sense. After talking with Erik, he started his own tutoring service. Being the son of a wealthy aristocrat made people gravitate toward him and trust him. Whenever he had questions, though, he'd come to Erik. Alex ended up marrying a lovely lady from England and they moved to her homeland. The wedding was the last time we ever saw him. In April of 1912, Alex and his wife traveled first class to America to talk to a prospective student. Neither of them made it for the ship sank after hitting an iceberg. He was forty-seven. We were all devastated. I journeyed over to his parents' house to comfort his mother. She was still alive, being just a little older than Erik. I'm sorry to say that her son's death killed her.

Erik never took on anymore students after Alex and Jack. You would think he would because of the money issue. Apparently, there was enough money in the bank now to last us both two lifetimes. I also think Erik was too shy to take on another student. The world was changing, but not necessarily for the better. We weren't always able to get everything we wanted, but we always had enough. In other words, life was good.

We watched in awe and wonder as the Eiffel Tower was built during the early and late 1880's. It was interesting, since to me, the Eiffel Tower had already been around for a hundred years when I was kid. I read about it being built while I was in seventh grade! Erik pelted me with questions about the Tower. When would it be finished? Would it have any practical purpose? How long would it last? I just laughed at him. Erik had always been interested in any architectural wonder. This tower would be one of those. It also proved a point: I was truly from the future. How else could I have so accurately predicted the time of completion?

The Eiffel tower was completed in 1889. It marked the second World Fair to come to Paris. The first was in 1878; neither Erik nor I had any interest in going to it. This year, however, I dragged him to it. We only live once, I said to him. He gave in only to please me. The fair was exciting. There were booths of buyable items and food and so many other unique things. We walked along the base of the Tower and I told Erik about the future of this masterpiece. Erik wanted to talk to the architect but was not able to find him. When asked, I couldn't remember if he had been at the unveiling or not. History was not always my best subject.

There was one downfall to the fair: the human exhibits. We hurried past the displays of people in their "natural" habits. It reminded me too much of animals and I couldn't stand to see it. I never could understand other people's fascination with it. Maybe it was just my futuristic views. The sight was worse for Erik. He had lived in a cage for a good part of his childhood. He couldn't stand seeing people degraded like that. I saw a tear fall down his cheek as we passed them. We didn't stay much longer at the fair.

I figure this is as good as any for a brief snippet about Erik. He was the best husband any woman could ask for. Always kind and gentle, he was anxious to please me. Books, flowers, and chocolates would regularly appear on the nightstand on my side of the bed. When I wanted to do something, Erik would try to make it happen. Even if it was something he did not want to do. I'd say he was perfect, but no one is. He had a few flaws: too protective at times, obsessed with his music, and still in love with Christine. Though that last one never truly raised its ugly head until the time of his death. But that was ways away.

It was during the late 1890's that I rediscovered my love of writing. I had written on and off during my past life in the 20th century but had never picked it back up after falling into the 18th century. Erik was over at Alex's house, talking with him about the tutoring business. I was bored and Louise had already shooed me out of the kitchen. She was getting up in age, but she still commanded the kitchen. And when she said out, you went out.

I did some absent-minded cleaning in the library and finally settled down at the writing desk. A piece of paper was just lying there and inspiration hit me. When Erik came home, he found me leaning over ten pieces of paper, scribbling as fast as I could on one of them. He leaned over and kissed my cheek. I jumped, startled. I hadn't heard him come in.

"How was visiting with Alex?" I asked, setting the pen aside. "Did you two get everything accomplished that you wanted to?" Erik nodded, brushing a strand of his hair out of his face. His hair was graying but I still thought he looked as handsome as ever.

"Everything is pretty much settled. He already has five prospective students and he's excited. Alex sends his thanks for everything and his mother sends her love." I nodded and went back to writing. Erik watched me for a few minutes and then left. I soon heard music floating down from upstairs. I laughed. The two geniuses at work: one at music, the other at writing.

I never published any books during my stay in the past. I would write a little and then read it for Erik and Louise. Both encouraged the book being publishing, claiming the story was beautiful, but I couldn't. I didn't want to. Something held me back. It took me ten years to finish one story, with little stories on the side. Like I said earlier, I only read them to Erik and Louise.

The year 1900 brought about its own complications. Even if I wanted to print a book, I would not have had the time. Erik turned sixty that year and I was forty-five. We also lost a very close friend.


	25. Chapter 25: Death in the Family

Disclaimer: Same old stuff. I do not own anything.

Chapter 25: Death in the Family

I woke up because someone was fiercely shaking me. A panicky voice was telling me to get up because it didn't know what it should do. I wanted to ignore it and head back into the comfort of sleep, but the voice wouldn't let me. I was tempted to hit the voice, but how do you hit sound? I slowly found my way from the dream world to the real one. Erik was leaning over me, horror written all over his face.

"Elizabeth, wake up. Wake up. Something's wrong with Louise. Come quick. Please!" I was out of bed in a flash. I knew this had been coming. The previous winter, Louise had a bout with the fever and it had nearly claimed her. She was, after all, in her nineties. It was a miracle she had even lived this long. I rushed past Erik and down the stairs. I feared finding her already dead in her bed.

She wasn't, however. Just very close. Her face was a pasty white and her breath was coming up in ragged gusts. I fell down next to her bedside, trying not to go into hysterics. She had been a mother to me when I had lost mine to time. I didn't know what I was going to do without her. Erik stood next to me, hand resting on my shoulder. I heard him taking in deep breaths, fighting tears.

"Elizabeth, my dear." Louise whispered, her aged hand finding mine. She smiled and gave my hand a squeeze. "Don't be sad, dear. It's the Lord's time for me to leave. He's calling me home. Don't fret." I smiled in spite of the tears that had managed to sneak out. Trust Louise to still be as straight to the point as possible.

"Do you want me to send for a doctor?" I asked, hoping she would say yes.

"No. No. No doctor, please. I already told Master no." She smiled up at my husband. "It's been a pleasure serving you, monsieur. Thank you for all the wonderful years and memories. If only my Philip could have been here to meet you. But, I shall soon see him in heaven. Good-bye, dears. Don't be afraid of the future. Live life and enjoy each other." She squeezed my hand one more time and then was gone.

I stood, the shock of her death rolling over me like waves, and turned toward Erik. He held me in his embrace as I cried. I knew people had to die. I knew we all would die someday. I'd just never been this close to death before. My grandfather had died when I was very young, but I hardly remembered that. Louise's death also brought to mind that my husband was getting old. What would I do without him?

Her funeral was a few days later. It was raining, rather appropriate if you asked me. It always needed to rain for funerals. It made you think God was crying along side you. Jack, his family, and Alex's family attended the funeral. Alex was in England with his blushing bride. He sent his condolences, though.

A day after the funeral, I was still somewhat in shock. I missed Louise and now that she was gone, all the cooking and cleaning and mending fell to me. I didn't mind, but every time I made soup or mended a shirt or cleaned the kitchen, I thought of her. And then I would burst into tears again. Erik found me that day making bread and crying.

"Now, now, you don't want to mess up the bead with more salt, do you?" His attempt to make me smile failed horribly. But I appreciated the effort. "You really miss her, don't you?" He asked, stroking my hair and holding me. I never wanted him to let me go.

"Yeah, I miss her a lot. She was like a mother to me. And when I cook, all I can think about is her. I can hear her telling me to add more salt or more pepper or more this or that. I would still be a terrible cook if it wasn't for her."

"Do you wish she was still alive to be with you?" He asked. I had to stop and think about it. Did I wish she was still alive? I did, but at the same time I didn't. A thought nagged at the back of my mind. Some historical event was shoving its way to the front of my still shocked brain. An event I would never have wanted Louise to live through.

"What's the date? Erik, what's the date?" I yelped, looking up at him. The event was now in the forefront of my mind.

"It's September 13, 1900. Why is it so important?" He looked perplex. There were a few things from the past I had kept secret. And this was one of them. I breathed a sigh of relief, though. I had fourteen years to plan for it. Something else dawned on me at that moment. One other event would occur within that time span. A warning in my heart bade me not mention either.

"It's not important. At least, not now. But, no, I wouldn't want Louise to be alive right now. I don't think she would like where the world is going to go." He opened his mouth to ask what I meant, saw my look, and kept the question to himself. It was better he didn't ask. Time would soon tell what was going to happen. Nations were going to go to war. And the first love of his life was going to die.


	26. Chapter 26: The Drums of War

Disclaimer: Don't sue! I own nothing!

A/N: Hi, everyone! I hope you are having a merry Christmas. I know I am. Here's the next chapter. Enjoy! Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

Chapter 26: The Drums of War

Erik and I never had any children. Why, we never found out. It could have been any number of factors. It could be I was not compatible with this world's DNA. It could have been something having to do with Erik. Or, maybe God just didn't want us to have any children. Whatever the reason, we were left with a silent house, never to be graced by the pitter-patter of little feet. It was a sore blow for Erik, who very much wanted children.

For me, I was secretly glad we never had any. Don't get me wrong. I truly wanted a child to call my own. But not having children was for the best. The world they would have grown up in would not have been fun or enjoyable. And any son would have had to fight.

Twelve years went by faster than the previous twenty-seven. Living without Louise was hard and Erik refused to hire another maid of any sort. So I did all the cleaning, cooking, and mending. With just the two of us, it was relatively easy, though I still missed Louise and her presence. Erik helped where he could. I eventually taught him how to cook a chicken without my help. He was quite proud of the accomplishment.

Most of his time, however, was spent in the piano room, pouring over music sheets. As Erik became older, his love for his music deepened. Sometimes it was all I could do to pry him away from the piano. There were nights where I slept in an empty bed, listening to the strains of music coming from down the hall. It became his one obsession. During those times, I threw myself into writing. I knew Erik loved me still, but I was not one who liked being ignored. Especially for a piano. I lived, though. After two days of nonstop playing, he'd usually come around and grace me with his presence for a week. Surprisingly, most of the music he wrote was for me.

Those twelve years were some of the most peaceful in Paris. I believe the term used for them was _belle époque_, or beautiful epoch. The city prospered and life was good. My mind tortured me through those twelve years, however. I knew what was going to happen and I was powerless to stop it. I watched young couples on the streets and I knew the tragedy soon to come upon them. Erik realized something was wrong, but didn't bring it up. He knew I wanted to be alone with my demons.

Time was no longer our friend. I was almost in my sixties and Erik was just entering his seventies. In 1911, he caught a severe cold after walking through a snow storm. It had been Christmas Eve and the item he had bought me hadn't arrived until that evening. I was clueless he had went anywhere until I saw him walking in, snow slipping from his cloak and his coughing ringing through the silent house. He was sick for over two weeks. I was afraid I'd loose him. Fate spared me that for a few more years, but Erik became weaker.

By 1912, though looking as physically fit as a forty year old, he was weak on the inside. His immune system was not as it had been. My fear of him dying was escalating along with another problem soon to be at hand. The drums of war could be heard through out the land. World War I was around the corner. And I knew Paris was likely to be a target of the Germans.

The actual fighting began in August of 1914. I was relieved that France was on the Allied side. I don't know what I would have done if they allied with the Central Powers. Maybe I'd have migrated to the United States. Of course, history classes had taught me which side France would be on. I should never have doubted.

Many Parisian men were shipped off to the battle fronts. Tearful farewells were heard through out the city. The crying of women who might never see their husbands, sons, or brothers again echoed through the streets of Paris. I was thankful that Erik was too old to go to war. I don't know what I would have done. We sat in our house and watched the military depart. Erik also watched me with curiosity, knowing that I had known about this.

"How bad is the war going to be?" He pried gently. I repressed a shudder. Nothing in the world would make me want to talk about it. But, I knew Erik. Now that he knew my deep dark secret about the future, he'd want to know the details. And nothing would stop the endless questions. It was best to get it over with.

"It's going to be one of the worst wars in history." I whispered, watching a woman walk crying down the sidewalk. "Nearly ten million men will die. About a million of them will be from our country. And this will lead the way to the Second World War." I heard Erik draw in a deep breathe. Ten million people were a lot of people. Not to mention the number of wounded, missing, and civilian causalities.

"Ten million will die? That is a high price to pay for a war." He sighed and turned back to his piano. "Why did the world come to this? And what will become of Paris?" He gave me a sidelong glance as he started to play.

"I don't honestly know." I whispered. But I knew whatever happened, it could not be good. And history proved me right.

Paris was reduced in population by a third. Our streets were empty, most of the new automobiles being used in the war. We were bombed and lived in constant fear for our lives. The Germans never entered the city, though. They came close in 1918, but never made it. Erik and I stocked up on food and he pulled what money he could from our savings account. The winters were harsh and I feared for his life. Thankfully, Erik never got sick despite the epidemic that spread during the winter of 1917.

1917 brought another blow to us, but specifically to Erik. I read about it first in the papers and wished I could keep it from him. But, I knew it was impossible. This started the downfall of my life here in Paris. But more on that later.

I remember, as the Germans came close during 1918, being terribly afraid. Erik and I moved our bedroom to one of the downstairs rooms, away from any windows. There was not enough time to erect a bomb shelter (I had to explain what that was to Erik). I feared for my life. Erik comforted me, as German missiles cascaded into the city. They were still outside the city limits, but close enough that their missiles could still penetrate the outskirts.

During the night, as we waited for Allied troops to come to our rescue, Erik would read to me; dark stories of the north. Stories of love conquering all and right overcoming evil. There was comfort in those. I knew the war would turn out all right. We would win in the end. If the stories weren't enough to calm my fears, and there were no missile attacks, Erik played the piano. The sweet music calmed my heart and fears. It might be said that his music bewitched me into hoping. And fool-heartedly, hope I did. For the war ended, but our lives never returned back to normal.


	27. Chapter 27: Little Lotte

Disclaimer: Please see previous chapters.

Chapter 27: Little Lotte

Newspapers were a rare thing in Paris during 1917. Most of the paper had to be used for the war effort. But, one or two of the bigger newspapers stayed open and war news was usually the main topic of discussion. Erik had a hankering to read the newspaper that day, in the early fall. The leaves were just falling off the trees and it was quite beautiful.

I volunteered to walk to the nearest stand and pick one up for him. He protested that he should get it, but I won out. It was a gorgeous day for a walk and besides, he was getting too old to be walking around in this weather. Despite how nice it was, it was still cold and there was an epidemic running around. He bowed to my wishes and I found myself walking the mostly deserted streets of Paris.

The city was so different now than when I had first arrived. Then it had been constantly in motion, day or night. Now it was a skeleton of its former self. Nearly a third of the population was gone, explaining the unusual silence. Not to mention all the sickness going around. I was lucky I had not caught anything.

The nearest stand was a mile and a half from the house. I accomplished the walk in forty-five minutes, a record for me. I purchased the paper and headed back. More war headlines were splashed across the front. That was all anyone could talk about nowadays. I sighed and flipped through it.

I wasn't truly reading the paper, just scanning the headlines, until I came to the obituaries. Nine words stood out to me and I almost dropped the paper, a bad thing considering how blustery the day was. My face paled as I slowly reread the lines: **World Renown Parisian Opera Singer Died of the Epidemic**.

It had happened. Christine de Chagny had died. I leaned against a lamppost, trying to calm my racing heart as tears pricked the corners of my eyes. A woman walking along the opposite sidewalk stared at me like I was demon-possessed. Dead, I thought. She's dead. Oh, Erik! I wanted to tear the obituary out and throw it away. Let the wind take it far away from my life. But, I knew I couldn't. I couldn't spare Erik. He would find out some other way. And I would rather be there to comfort him now than to have him read it in the dead of night without me.

I started walking and soon I had come to the house. Squaring my shoulders, I walked in. Erik glanced up from where he was in the front parlor, reading. I hadn't expected him to be in there. I thought he would have been working up in the piano room thus giving me enough time to compose myself. That time was now lost. He knew something was wrong the minute I walked in the door. My pale and tear-stained face must have given me away.

"Elizabeth, what is it? What's happened? Are you ill? Do I need to call the doctor?" I shook my head. Hesitantly, I handed over the paper, with the obituary page open. "I don't understand." He whispered, taking the paper. He soon understood though. The words were in bold and splashed across the front. There was no way in the world he could miss them.

"I'm so sorry, Erik. I know what she meant to you." His face had gone a deathly white and then a fierce red. His hand clenched the paper. Without warning, he picked up the book he had been reading and threw it against the glass panels of the parlor doors. The glass didn't break, but a crack line appeared in the glass. I fought back a scream.

He hurried out of the room, not even glancing at me and leaving the newspaper crumbled on the floor. A few minutes later, I heard the sounds of the piano keys. Erik was pounding on that thing like his life depended on it. The sounds were horrific. I covered my ears in an attempt to drown them out. They were the sounds of a lover who had suddenly and unexpectedly lost the love of his life.

I should have been jealous. I really should have been. Why was he mourning a woman who had gone off with someone else? I was the love of his life. He should be thinking about me! But, I pitied him. This was a hard blow. I knew from the beginning I could never replace Christine. Never. She would always be his first love.

I walked up the stairs, the music swirling around me. I couldn't block it out, no matter how I tried. It brought to my mind my home in the "future" and my family. I hadn't thought about them in a while. The old ache for home sprung up in my chest. Erik's music could always do that to me: evoke emotions long buried.

I opened the door and watched him play for a few minutes. He was pouring all his frustration, anger, sadness, and fear into the music. His face was so contorted by the range of the emotions that the deformity stood out. I walked quietly over to him and laid my hand on his shoulder. He didn't even break his stride in the music.

"I am truly sorry." I whispered. I could have been a stone gargoyle for all he cared. Erik just kept on playing and playing and playing. "I am. And I love you." I leaned over and placed a kiss on his cheek. He stopped playing and reached up and grabbed my hand. His eyes looked deep into mine.

"I am sorry, Elizabeth. Please give me a few days to get over this. I won't want anything to eat and I don't want to be disturbed." I nodded my head and turned to go. "Elizabeth."

"Yes, Erik?"

"I love you." And with that he turned back to his playing.


	28. Chapter 28: A Red Rose

Disclaimer: Well, you know I don't own a thing. So there's no use repeating myself.

Chapter 28: A Red Rose

Erik remained a recluse for about a week after reading the paper. I was not allowed into his presence, so it was a mystery to me whether or not he ate or drank. I was concerned for his health, but I knew better than to risk his anger. We did not need a repeat of that night many moons ago.

They buried Christine two days after the article in the paper came out. Almost everyone who was left in the city came out to attend. She had been well known and loved; never loosing her sweetness with her fame. I felt bad for Raoul. If her death was a blow to Erik, how much more it must be to him!

I knew Erik went to the funeral. Don't ask how I knew. I just did. Nothing could keep him away from her in the end. I did not attend to funeral. A pity party was more what I needed, since my husband was choosing to lavish love on the dead rather than the living. I was getting fend up with his constant hiding out and wanted him to join the real world.

Eventually, he did. After that first week, I was allowed back into his presence. He was tenser than he used to be. A few more wrinkles appeared around his eyes. It looked to me like he had aged over thirty years in that one week. His hair had more grey in it than before. When I walked in, he smiled in an attempt to look normal. I saw past it. Nothing would ever be normal. His one true love had died. A broken heart was never easy to conceal.

"I'm sorry, Erik, for everything." I whispered, kneeling down next to him. His hand found my chin and lifted my face. I gazed into eyes I had loved for over fifty years, my heart breaking as I saw new sorrow behind them.

"You've done nothing wrong, my dear. And I'm sorry to have kept you waiting this long. I know it is hard being alone." I simply nodded. "Come." He said, standing up and taking my hand in his. "I'm hungry." I almost laughed. So, we went downstairs and ate.

Two years passed. The war ended and Paris was freed from the threat of the Germans. Many of our lost sons and daughters returned. Plans were made to rebuild what had been destroyed. We watched with great happiness as the city returned to normal.

Our lives didn't return to normal, however. Erik was quieter and less apt to share his thoughts with me. I was regulated to some back corner of his mind while Christine was in the forefront. The blow hurt, but I just dealt with it. I knew coming into the marriage that he still loved Christine.

September of 1919 came and I was busy mending some of Erik's pants. Thread and the like had been in short supply during the war and now that it was over, I had to mend almost everything left unattended those four years. Erik had worn those poor pants down to the bare threads. I'd have bought him a new pair, but he wouldn't hear of it.

As I sat there mending, he burst into the room. His eyes were a light and he waved a piece of paper in my face. I could have sworn Erik suddenly looked thirty instead of seventy-nine.

"Have you heard? Have you heard, Elizabeth?" I politely shook my head. What had happened now? "They're auctioning off pieces of the old opera house." He flung himself into an unused chair. "Can you believe that? My opera house and they're selling it!"

"Don't work yourself into a frenzy." I replied, laying down my mending. Age had made me more docile. "It was never technically your opera house to begin with, anyway." He glared at me. I ignored him. "Are you going to go and see if there's anything you want?" He shook his head.

"No, but this is the perfect opportunity to do something I've been wanting to do." He withdrew from his shirt the necklace and Christine's ring. "Elizabeth, I've wanted to give Christine her ring back. One last memento from her Angel. I haven't had the opportunity because Raoul is constantly at her grave. I dread running into him." He shuddered and long forgotten hatred sprang into his eyes. The flame died as quickly as it came. "He'll no doubt go to the auction. During that time, would you take me to the grave yard? Please?" Erik was suddenly a little child again, pleading to have his way in this matter. I acquiesced.

"All right. We'll go." I picked up my mending again. Erik grabbed my hands, the pants falling to the floor. He planted a kiss on my lips and smiled at me. I couldn't help smiling back.

"Thank you, Elizabeth."

We found ourselves a few weeks later in a carriage, heading for Paris's magnificent graveyard on the outskirts of the city. If you've never been there, I would recommend it. Not because it is a lonely, destitute place, where ghosts walk, but because of the interesting sculptures and gravestones. There were twenty foot tall men with swords and crying virgins and angels of every description. It was my first visit to the Parisian graveyard and I was impressed (Louise had been buried out in the country and not in this graveyard).

Erik had worried all week as to how he was going to give Christine her ring back. He refused my help so I just watched him walk back and forth around the room. I knew an idea hit him when his eyes sparkled and he started mumbling.

"What a perfect way. A perfect way it is. And he'll know. Oh yes, he will know. Her Angel would never forget her. I would never forget her. The black ribbon for my despair and the red rose for my love. The ring is hers and to her it must go. Let him beware if he so much as tries to take the ring from the rose. We are inseparable."

So my husband ranted and raved. I was scared he was going insane and was on the point of calling the men in white coats when he bade me be calm. Nothing was wrong with him; he was just slipping back into old habits. Age made one regress to old ways, he said. Old habits? Old ways? I'd never seen him mumble so in all my years here, but I let it drop.

The day was overcast as we made our way around gravestones. Leaves stirred by the wind whipped by us and joined their fellows in games of tag. I couldn't see anyone in the graveyard, for which I was very much relieved. Christine was buried near her father's grave. Her headstone contained a picture of her, with the dates of death and birth, as well as a little saying about her being a wife and mother.

Erik traced her picture with his gloved hand. Tears fell from his eyes. I stepped back to give him some time alone with her. My nerves were taunt, for what if Raoul suddenly came? That was one encounter sure to doom them both.

"My great love." Erik whispered, kneeling in front of the stone. "Why did you go with him? Why, my angel? I would have given all for you. And now here you lie, under cold earth and stone. Will we ever meet again in the hereafter? Time will shortly tell. Time will shortly tell." He placed his offering on the corner of the stone.

It was a red rose with a black ribbon tied on its stem. I knew this was his gift to her in former days, when she was still his student. I remembered his words, "A black ribbon for my despair and the red rose for my love." I shuddered. My lover was morbid. Tied within the ribbon, was Christine's engagement ring.

Erik stood and looked over at me. He gave me a weak smile and extended his hand. I took it and in silence we left the last resting place of Christine de Chagny. It was the first and last time Erik would ever see it.


	29. Chapter 29: A Heart on Its Own

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Don't sue! Please don't sue!

A/N: We come to it at last. The almost end of the story. Weary of the journey, yet? Well, it is almost over; only three more chapters after this one. I hope you all have enjoyed it. My thanks for all the kind reviews. Oh, and don't kill me because of this chapter. Please! I want to live…

Chapter 29: A Heart on Its Own

Have you ever heard that dreams are the forbearer of events? I'd heard that statement once or twice from some New Age people, but never believed it myself. I was not a superstitious person by nature. To me, dreams were dreams; entertainment while I slept. A few weeks after taking Erik to place the rose on Christine's grave, though, I had an awful dream.

Black mist swirled around me as I wandered through the graveyard of Paris. Giants surrounded me and blocked my every way. They were leading me somewhere; somewhere I did not want to go. An angel protected with her wings a gravestone at the far end of the line of giants. She looked remarkably like Christine. Tears of black coursed down her cold stone face. I screamed when I read the name on the stone: Erik. I fell to my knees and sobbed.

I woke up with sweat dripping down my face and heart racing. Erik, who had been awakened by my tossing and turning, asked what the matter was. I did not want to distress him, so I just said I had a nightmare and wanted to forget it. Honoring my request, we both went back to sleep.

Three days later, my nightmare became a reality.

I woke up that morning shocked to find Erik still in bed next to me, asleep. He was a morning person and was typically out of bed before I woke up (if he even came to bed at all). I decided old age was finally catching up to him and left him to sleep.

I knew something was wrong when he missed breakfast and lunch; the time being around 2:00 in the afternoon. I rushed upstairs, wondering what was the matter with him. I was greeted by the sight of my husband lying in bed, eyes wide open, breathing fast, and deathly pale.

"Erik, what's wrong? Do I need to go get the doctor?" I gasped, falling on my knees next to his bedside. He stared at me for a few seconds, trying to place me in his mind. My questions went unanswered.

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth, my love, it is time. It is time." Horror washed over me. Denial found its way into my head. We were both still young by future standards. There was plenty of time still left. Right?

"No, Erik. No. Let me go fetch the doctor. You just have a cold and nothing more. Stop that foolish talk about dying." I made a motion to get up, when he caught my wrists with surprising speed and strength.

"No. It is time. I've lived two years, waiting for this day. Elizabeth, I love you. I love you. You've shared these past years with me and I'll never forget them. You gave me reason to wake up each morning. Your smile brightened my day. My music was for you. My life was for you. But, my soul belonged to her. And it has fled. You knew. You knew this. You knew my first love would always be her. I love you still, but it is time. Let me go." My tears made little water marks on the bed sheet. My nightmare was coming true. He was leaving me. And I cried.

"I'm sorry, my love." His hand stroked my cheek and he pulled gently on a strand of my graying hair. "I love you. I always will. But, I loved her, too. Now she is gone. Two years! Two years she's been gone. Now, my time has come. Let me go, beloved. Let me go."

"Please stay. There is still so much time ahead of us." I cried. Tears burned their way down my cheeks. He was dying and I was powerless to stop it. What would I do when I was alone?

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I love you. I love you so much. Wait." His eyes stared off into some distant place; a place I could not enter. "Do you see her? Oh, Christine, my angel. She is waiting for me. Let me go, beloved. Let me go. She is calling. I cannot ignore her. I'm coming, Christine…" His voice trailed off.

"No!" I screamed. Sobs racked my body. I laid my head on his chest, pleading for one more second, one more minute, one more of anything. "Please don't leave. Please! I love you. Erik, don't leave me!" He smiled at me and was gone.

I don't know how long I sat there with my husband's corpse. Hours. Days. Months. Time streamed by me like a river I was barely aware of. I was just in too much shock. I cried every tear out of my body. I looked at Erik, so peaceful in death. When I came to my senses, I did what any lover does: said good-bye.

"There'll never be a day when I won't think of you. I promise, my love." I kissed his cold cheek and went for the undertaker.

They buried him in the Parisian grave yard. Only his name, birth year, and date of death were placed on the tombstone. I was asked if I wanted to put an epithet of some kind on the tombstone. I couldn't think of anything that would do him justice, so I declined. Only Jack came to the funeral. He was my sole comfort those few days.

When I walked past Erik's final resting place after the funeral, I was struck by a thought. What would happen if Raoul, going to see Christine, should see this stone? Would he know who Erik was? Would he even pause? Or were his thoughts only consumed with Christine, like Erik's had been? Those thoughts haunted me as I took a car ride home. Jack asked if I needed him to stay with me, but I told him to go home to his family. I wanted to think.

Closure, I thought to myself. That is what this whole thing needs: closure. An idea formed in my overly shocked and tired brain. Erik would most likely have killed me if he knew what I did. But, I had to do. I just had to. It was something to keep my mind from plunging into the dark abyss.

I obtained the addresses of the Raoul and Madame Giry, the only two participants of the opera house fiasco still alive, and sent them each a letter. The letters each contained one simple line: "The Phantom of the Opera is dead."


	30. Chapter 30: The Cathedral

Disclaimer: I own nothing. But, you knew that.

A/N: I've just started school again, so I don't know how often I'll be able to post. There are only two more chapters after this one and I still need to finish them. Please bear with me. Again, thank you for all the nice reviews!

Chapter 30: The Cathedral

One long year went by after Erik's death. I don't know what I did with myself during that time of grief. Jack was able to wrestle some money out of the bank account for me to live on. He came over every few days, making sure I was still among the living. I always dreaded those visits. He was constantly asking me if I wanted to come live with him. As if I couldn't take care of myself.

That year was a long one. I avoided going to the graveyard, wanting to remember him as a living person rather than a dead one. On the anniversary of his death, I convinced myself to visit his grave. Nothing had changed much. There were a few more gravestones and the trees were still as bent and twisted as ever. I placed a single rose beside his grave. No black ribbon; just a simple rose. My despair I kept inside my heart.

Another half year went by. June, the anniversary of my coming to Paris, came with a heat wave. I was tired of being cupped up inside the house. I'm sure people talked about the old recluse who lived in that house on the boulevard. A sudden inspiration came to me. Why not go visit Notre Dame? I had not been to the cathedral since coming to Paris, though I had long wanted to go.

I planned accordingly. I picked a weekday (in thinking about tourists) and soon I was off. Cafés, trees, people, lives, and water rushed past my vision as the hired car took me into the city. Notre Dame loomed over all, like a mother hen protecting the chicks at her feet. The memory brought back to mind a book I had read when a young girl, The Hunchback of Notre Dame. I remembered the famous bell-ringer and wondered what made the bells chime now.

The cathedral is magnificent. Like the graveyard, if you have never been there, it would be well worth your time to go and see it. The building is built along a water way with trees and flowers lining the sides. Two towers touch the sky, housing the bells that toll. Smaller towers are placed here and there. I stood in the square before the cathedral, marveling at the size of the structure. Erik would have loved this building. I wondered why he had never opted to come here.

I entered through the tall double doors of the centre entrance. Statues of saints, swirling colors from the stain glass windows, and candles found their way into my vision. All those years of saying I would come see this place and now I came only after my beloved husband's death. For some reason it did not seem right. I walked toward the front alter and fell on my knees before the Almighty.

I prayed for wisdom. I'd lived for one whole year and a half alone and it had about driven me crazy. I had money, so I was well taken care of in that department. I was only 65 years old and very fit for my age, but I was still from the future. Living a life in Paris without my husband scared me now. What was I going to do? Answers came and answers went. Nothing seemed to be what I was looking for. In all reality, I just wanted to go home: to the future. My lips moved in silent prayer.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea rolled over me. I felt my body pitch forward onto the cold stone floor of the cathedral. Groping, I tried to find some object that would help me stand up. Intense pain shot through me with every move I made. To my body, I was on a rolling ship and about to be pitched over in the sea. I screamed.

The scream echoed up and down the church and it brought the priests running. Another scream tore out of me. Every movement, every flash of light caused pain. What was happening? I finally gave up the struggle to stand and collapsed onto the floor, body shaking. A seizure? I thought. No, this was something far worse.

Darkness crept into my vision. The colors of the stain glass windows- blue, purple, yellow, orange, red- danced across my eyes in a never-ending pattern. Make it stop. Make it stop. I pleaded with my insides. One last blood-curdling scream erupted from my mouth. The last thing I heard was the priests shouting for a doctor. Then I slipped out of time and space, into darkness as deep as hell.


	31. Chapter 31: Learn to be Lonely

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Chapter 31: Learn to be Lonely

I expected to wake up in some hospital, doctors and nurses leaning over me and asking me how many fingers they were holding up. I had no such luck.

I slowly woke up, rolling over onto my side. I was lying in bed and as soon as I moved, I knew something was definitely wrong. Sunlight was filtering in through my closed eyelids (when had Erik and I ever kept the blinds open all night?). The sound that had waked me was the sound of someone pounding on my door. The voice sounded strangely like my little brother, who I had left back in the future. Impossible, I thought. This was all just some strange dream. I'd wake up soon and find myself in my room back at the Parisian house or a hospital. A loud shout erased that thought.

"Elizabeth, wake up! Are you going to sleep the whole day away? It is 2:00 and Mom demands that you get up and get moving." My younger brother shouted through the closed door. I yelled back, telling him to go away. I realized my mistake just as he asked what language I had just spoken in. It was French, of course, but I kept that observation to myself.

Think, Elizabeth, think. I commanded myself. I was rusty on my English. I finally found the words for go away and after one more attempt to rouse me, my brother departed for the television. I sat up in bed and looked around.

I was back in my old room again. Nothing had changed. It was like I had never even gone away. I looked at my body and nearly screamed. This was not the body of a sixty-five year old woman. I was eighteen again. I felt my face; no wrinkles. I examined my hair in a mirror; no gray hairs. I flexed my wrists; no sore joints. I was young again. I wanted to cry.

A dream? It had all be a dream? My whole life in Paris, Erik, Louise, Jack, Alex, everything had been a dream? Impossible. I remembered every detail, from the way Erik smelled to how many rooms were in our house. So many details, it couldn't all be a dream. Confused by my thoughts, I scanned the room again, looking for anything that would explain this nightmarish dream I was now in.

My eyes alighted on a little hand purse sitting on my chair. It looked delicate with age. I realized it was my bag from Paris. I grabbed for it, being careful not the rip the material. It was heavy. Reaching in, I pulled out a picture frame. Inside was the picture Erik and I had taken after our wedding. There was his scowling face and my happy smile. The picture was brown with age, showing it had traveled through a century. So, it hadn't been a dream. I had gone to the past, lived there for nearly fifty years, and returned home. I was home.

I placed the picture on my desk for the moment. I got out of bed and stretched. A spark of light hitting the wall caught my eye. Tracing it, I found a ring on my finger: my wedding ring. I sank back down to the bed. My wedding ring was still on my finger. The one Erik had given me. I needed no further proof. How it was possible, I do not know. But, I had gone to the past and come back with mementos.

The next few weeks were a blur. I had to relearn English and then explain to my mom that I had been secretly learning French in my spare time. Of course, that didn't explain why I was so fluent in it, but she let it go. I hid the picture in the top of my drawers. I had no way to explain that. My ring I never took off, save to sleep or take a shower. Mom noticed it, but asked no questions. She somehow knew I wasn't telling all about something. I doubt she would have believed me if I had told her.

June went on to become July and so forth. Soon, it was March. My body may not have aged, but my mind had. I felt so much older than the rest of my peers. To them, I must have seemed old fashioned. Which I was. Living that far in the past does that to you. And I was lonely. I missed Erik so much. I missed his comforting presence, his music, his everything. I couldn't even go see his final resting place. I was in a very melancholy mood.

To try and cheer me up, my best friend planned on having a Phantom of the Opera party. We'd all dress up as characters, play opera related games, and then watch the movie. She knew how much I loved that movie and thought it would revive my spirits. The party was fun. I enjoyed seeing my old friends and I laughed a little. But, when they played the movie, I ran.

I couldn't watch it. I just couldn't. All I saw was him. I couldn't bear to watch him kill someone. Most of all, I couldn't bear to watch him love Christine. She had been the reason why he died. If she had lived, he would have lived and I would have been home in Paris, making breakfast with him. I raced into my friend's room, shut the door, and cried. She found me there a few minutes later.

"Elizabeth, what's wrong?" She asked, kneeling next to me, comforting me as best she could.

"If I told you, you'd never believe me." I whispered, choked on my tears. All my thoughts were centered on one person: Erik. How I missed him.

"Try me." She challenged. So, I did. I told her everything. I told her about my waking up in Paris and Erik rescuing me and our courtship and getting married. Through tears, I told her about Christine's death and then his own. I recounted going to Notre Dame, feeling sick, and waking up back here. When I was done, she sat back on her heels, thinking.

"You don't think I'm a certified nutcase, do you?" I asked. She shook her head.

"I see the ring. And you've promised to show me the picture." Grasping my hands in hers, she smiled. "I believe you. I know you wouldn't lie about something like this. Oh, it's so exciting. I want to hear every detail." I laughed, some of my sadness evaporating. Here was a comrade I could trust and who could help me through what I knew would be hard times.

And hard times came. Nights when I would wake up, thinking I was home, only to find myself back here. I cried more tears than I thought could reside in a body. I had so wanted to come home. Now that was I back, all I wanted to do was go to Paris. My friend was always there, though. She knew the right words to cheer me up and I made it through it.

At twenty-one, I graduated from college and married my boyfriend of six years. He had proposed and I loved him with that second love Erik had loved me with. So, I said yes. Our wedding was a gorgeous outdoor event. The sun shown high and birds sang. I did my best not to cry. Again, my friend helped my get through it.

For our honeymoon, I convinced him that we should go to Paris. Not very nice, I know. I never have told him about my life in Paris. He might believe me, but I don't think he'd like the thought of me having been with another man. After all, only my best friend knew I wasn't a virgin on my wedding day.

We wandered around Paris for about week. Okay, we didn't wander around every day. The first three days were spent… well, that's something I'll let you think of yourself. After those three days, I had to go out and see the city. My husband was surprised to see that I could speak the language, find my way around and not get lost, and knew where all the cutest places were. Unfortunately, many of the places I had seen in the past stay at Paris were no longer around. One or two of them remained.

After much pleading, I finally convinced my husband to take me to see the ancient graveyard on the outskirts of Paris. The graveyard had fallen into decay after the last World War. The Germans had decimated it with bombs and the like.

"Why would you want to go see that old thing? I thought you were afraid of dead bodies." He asked, as we sat outside a café.

"Please." I begged. "I'm interested in that old place. I've heard some amazing stories about it. Please? Please?" In the end, I won out. He could refuse me nothing, just like Erik.

The graveyard was now a place full of weeds and untended out growths of plants. The statues of men and virgins had long since toppled and been covered by the undergrowth. It was a jungle out there. Using as much of my memory as I could, I directed our steps in the direction of where Erik's grave should have been. Wasn't I shocked to find nothing there.

I thought I had to be wrong. There should at least be a gravestone in this spot. There was nothing. Just an empty spot of land overgrown with brambles. Tears sprang into my eyes and I angrily wiped them away. Had I gone the wrong way after all? I glanced at my surroundings, my husband admiring a few flower blooms in the distant. There was an old tree, all bent and twisted, that I recognized. A tombstone stood a little off to my left. I picked away the plant entwining it and found these words: "Anne Rigaletto, 1862-1915". I remembered that stone. It had been right next to Erik's when we buried him. I was in the right spot. So, why was there no tombstone?

I pondered that on our way back to the hotel and through the airplane ride home. I quickly settled into the homemaker mode once I was backing the States. Where was Erik's tombstone? Had someone taken it? Or had it never really existed in the first place? As much as I wanted to know the answers to those questions, they were doomed to remain unanswered.

All I ever knew was that I was lonely for Erik. And the ache in my heart would never go away.


	32. Chapter 32: Epilogue

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: Here we are. The very last chapter. Thank you for all the nice reviews, suggestions, and comments. I appreciate it. I hope you all have enjoyed this story. I pray you have a blessed New Year. – Alia G. L.

Chapter 32: Epilogue

I am now sixty-five years old; the same age when I left Paris to return here. I am still married to my other husband and we have lived a full life. I've had four children (two are twins) and they, in turn, have had more kids. My first child was a lively little boy. Out of consideration for the dead, I named him Erik. My husband questioned the meaning of the name but I told him it was a long story. He trusted him. He's always trusted me, though he knows I am hiding something. Lord bless him.

All my other children are the apples of my eye, but Erik was always special. He acted like my past husband; always curious and creating new and amazing objects. Little Erik went on to become an inventor. The rest of my children were girls: Amanda, Aimee, and Maria. Amanda and Aimee are the twins. They've all grown and have families of their own. We visit them often.

I have learned to laugh in my loneliness. I still miss Erik with all my heart. I now know what it must have been like for him. Always thinking about the person, but never being able to see them. It wrenches your heart apart until you're half the person you were. My best friend has helped me with that and I don't believe I have fallen too much into the trap of self-pity.

My husband and I have visited Paris once or twice more since our honeymoon. Each time, I nearly ran to the old graveyard. He couldn't understand my fascination with the place, but left me in peace. I never found Erik's grave. The possibility occurred to me that the Paris I had been in was one from an alternate dimension. If that was the case, his grave would be there but not here. On my last trip to Paris, I bid adieu to the graveyard. I have no desire to ever go there again.

How many more years I have left to live, I cannot say. Maybe I'll be blessed with a long life. Maybe I'll die tomorrow. I don't know. All I know is that I will use this time I have with my husband wisely. Neither of us knows when the other will depart.

I pray you have enjoyed this trip through my past. It is a story I don't tell often, but know it shall be revealed to the world. Be kind to an old lady; don't tease me too much. May your lives be as rich as mine have been, but with less heart ache. As the song says, "_Think of me. Think of me fondly, as we say good-bye._"


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